


Chansons de Piano

by DarkLux



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Academic Jealousy, Calem loves pokemon and Sycamore loves Calem, Calem starts off as a newborn and it goes from there, Family, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Parental Augustine Sycamore, Seriously go read Ryttu3k's stuff, Single Father, based on a headcanon, both people were underage and no underage sex takes place in the story proper, perfectworldshipping - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 00:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14296725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkLux/pseuds/DarkLux
Summary: Augustine Sycamore holds a baby in his arms and the world on his shoulders, and he cannot make sense of any of it.He’s sixteen. He just got an acceptance letter from the École Nationale Supérieure de Lumiose.  And still, around him, Augustine can see his future shattering.(Or: where Calem is actually Sycamore's son)





	1. Prélude en ré majeur

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryttu3k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryttu3k/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ryttu3k's headcanon](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/369993) by Ryttu3k. 



> This story is still being written, so I have no idea when it will be finished. So far, there's almost five chapters done. It's based on Ryttu3k's headcanon, which can be found here http://ryttu3k.tumblr.com/post/142214422330/so-my-canon-headcanon-canon-interp-i-guess. Yes, I did get permission to write this... about a year ago. Yes, I am very slow. But I think you can start reading now.

Augustine Sycamore holds a baby in his arms and the world on his shoulders, and he cannot make sense of any of it.

He’s sixteen. He just got an acceptance letter from the École Nationale Supérieure de Lumiose.  And still, around him, Augustine can see his future shattering.

It starts with the phone call of a crying, shrieking girl he only vaguely remembers, and the next thing Augustine knows is that she’s in front of him, red in the face from her anger and dark bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep. A woman behind her calls her Adriane, so Augustine tries to join name and face together, but he’s still drawing a blank. The man next to her is yelling, and finally Augustine’s mother comes to see what the commotion is about. Adriane screams in Augustine’s face, and then a bundle of blue blankets is shoved into his chest.

Couriway is a small town, quiet at this time of the year, and Augustine is almost positive that every single one of the residents hears the screaming when Adriane’s father puts himself in front of Augustine’s mother to yell at her about the irresponsible slut she has for a son. Augustine cringes at that just as his mother pulls herself to her full height and points a finger to the man’s face to retaliate that her boy wasn’t the only one at fault, even though she has no way of knowing if it was. Augustine still can’t quite remember the girl, but he stays quiet. His chest is tight with fear, his heart beats thunderously against his ribs.

Adriane’s family leaves, and Augustine has no idea if the baby is even his.

(It is.)

(The baby’s hair is black where Adriane’s is strawberry blonde, and his eyes gray to the brown of his mother’s.)

(Augustine knows this.)

(The DNA test results that come back from Lumiose only reaffirm Augustine’s gut feeling.)

“I—I don’t know if I can keep him, mom.”

Augustine’s mother yells at him, too. _Don’t be like your father_ , she says. _You are so much better than he is, don’t do this, son_.

Still, Augustine argues.

He fights with his mother, the first serious disagreement they have ever had, and they both end up in tears.

The day after that is filled with apologies and weary mutual understating. Augustine cradles the baby awkwardly, with fear, and his mother sweeps his hair away from his forehead and kisses the top of his head and corrects his hold. She says they should call Augustine’s sister, and he agrees, but not until she’s done with her work for the week.

Five days after the baby is pushed into Augustine’s arms, he and his mother make their way to the Town Hall to register the boy. Augustine cringes whenever someone looks at him or whispers, even if they are only trying to greet him or the whispers have nothing to do with him.

For an instant, he wants to hide the boy, hide his mistake, and he looks nervously around before he starts bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“You stop that right now, Augustine!” His mother tells him, and though her voice is stern, her touch is gentle when she reaches to straighten his coat. “There’s no need to be embarrassed about him.”

But Augustine _is_ embarrassed. And Augustine is scared as _shit_. And nothing his mom says can make it better.

So he just holds the kid— _his_ kid, _fuck_ , how does he have a _kid_?—a little tighter and puts his head down and lets his mother fill all the paperwork until they get to the boy’s name.

Augustine starts crying again.

(He should honor Adriane’s name, at least. _Adrien_.)

(Augustine remembers her scream. Her face as she yelled at him. The way she shoved a fragile week-old baby against him.)

(He doesn’t want to honor that.)

“Calem.”

* * *

When Augustine’s sister is off for the weekend, they all go to meet her at the train station. She knows about the baby, but she still pauses when she catches the way Augustine is holding the bundle of blankets to his chest. Then she looks up at Augustine’s face and she smiles at him in reassurance.

It helps, the way it always has.

At lunch, she pointedly looks away from the television when they announce her role in an upcoming movie. Their mother smiles but turns off the TV, instead trying to make conversation about something else.

Her name bounces in Augustine’s head. _Diantha. Diantha. Diantha_.

Because Diantha Carnet is going to be a famous actress, a famous champion. And Augustine is going to stay in Couriway forever.

He says as much to Diantha later, when they’re both holed up in their room and Augustine has let his pokémon roam around.

Diantha scoffs, sliding her feet out from under his legs and sitting up straight against the headboard of his bed. She hasn’t brought out her pokémon, says they’re tired, but Augustine knows they couldn’t possibly fit in the room, especially with the crib he managed to assemble and set up in the corner.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Diantha says, and she says it with so much conviction that he almost believes it. “You’re not staying here forever. You want to be a researcher, and everyone will flock over you when you apply for an apprenticeship.”

“They won’t,” Augustine retaliates. He realizes it’s not much as far as arguments go. He opens his mouth to say something else and promptly shuts it. He looks over to where his riolu is dangling from the crib, cooing over the baby.

“You got accepted into a Grande École. On an excellence scholarship. We’re sixteen. Not just anyone does that.  Not just anyone becomes _Major de promotion_ , either. you’re smart—Don’t give me that look, you are.” Diantha gets up from the bed and makes her way toward his desk. But Augustine is not dumb, he knows she’s just trying to get to the baby without making it overly obvious.

“About that—I-I don’t think I’m going.”

Diantha’s head snaps up, and her hand closes the book she had just opened with a smack. His riolu looks up at her, then at him, and busies himself with the baby again. “Not going where?” Diantha asks.

Augustine almost wants to smack her. She’s being thick on purpose, and it makes his blood boil. Except she really does look confused; her brow is slightly furrowed and her lip curled downward. Augustine pauses and collects himself. There’s something wrong with him these days. He’s always angry or frustrated or one breath away from crying, and it’s weird. It’s wrong. Augustine has always been kind, and he really needs sleep.

“The _École_.”

“What?” Diantha frowns “Of course you are going.”

“I can’t go!” Augustine snaps, apprehension pressing on his chest once more. “I have a son now, how am I supposed to—!” The baby starts to cry, and Augustine realizes how loud he was being.

He rushes forward and his riolu jumps onto his shoulder when he’s close enough, making room for him to pick up the boy and cradle him as well as he can. He’s still clumsy, but it’s only been a couple of weeks, and the boy is tiny and this is _absurd_.

Diantha watches carefully as he lulls the boy back to sleep, bouncing him like his mother taught him and singing bits and pieces of old lullabies he only sort of remembers.

Once the baby’s asleep, Augustine doesn’t put him back in the crib out of fear he’ll wake up. He has made that mistake before. Instead, he makes sure the baby’s head is supported appropriately and goes to sit back down on his bed.

“What’s his name?”

Augustine has to blink and clear his head a little before he can make sense of the question. Then he looks back at Diantha, biting his lip. “Calem.”

“That’s really cute. Not very Kalosian, though.” Diantha comes to sit next to him, and Augustine’s riolu takes his other side, straining to keep looking at the boy.

“It’s Unovan. But his middle name is Xavier,” Augustine adds the last part as an afterthought, like it’s an excuse, and Diantha rolls her eyes and insists she could have named the boy something Kantonese and still no one would mind.

Diantha hesitates after that. She leans over and caresses Calem’s head with a gentle finger. “His mom…”

Augustine rubs his eye with the heel of his hand without letting go of Calem. “I think her name was Adriane,” He shrugs “She was blonde. But can’t really…” Augustine males a vague gesture with his free hand to try to encompass his lack of knowledge.

“What do you mean you can’t really—” Diantha mimics the gesture “Wasn’t it the girl you brought over to my place last time you visited?”

Augustine blinks and tries to remember. “I brought someone back to yours? That… wasn’t nice.”

“You really don’t remember?” Diantha sits on her own bed, directly across from his. Her brow is furrowed, eyes moving to the floor as she tries to recall the details. “She had brown eyes, I think? A bit short, right? I was taller than her.”

It’s odd, how apparently Diantha remembers more about his son’s mother than he does. “I—Yeah! What, when did you…?”

“I did open the door for her when she left. You were too drunk to do it.”

And that is enough to confirm his fears. Augustine groans and leans back against the wall, tiny Calem held protectively. Adriane’s father was right, after all. Augustine’s eyes sting.

“Did she seem okay, though? When she left, I mean.”

“She wasn’t the drunk one, Gus.” Diantha clarifies, and Augustine blinks, head snapping up to meet his twin’s. “Only you were drunk. She was fine.”

And, _oh_.

The sting in Augustine’s eyes is unbearable, and he wipes them again. He still keeps his head down, looking at Calem’s sleeping face through unfallen tears.

“So I didn’t—I’m not—!” A sob cuts through his words, and his riolu is quick to nuzzle against his side.

“Oh, _Gus_ ,” Diantha’s voice is distant, but Augustine’s mattress dips in and there are warm arms around him. He lets out another sob into the crook of his sister’s neck. “You didn’t take advantage of her. If anything, she took advantage of you. Twice.” Diantha looks pointedly at Calem.

Augustine is not in the state of mind to wonder if Diantha can read minds, so he only lets her rub his back and she lets him cry against her shoulder until Calem starts to squirm.

And Augustine is tired. He knew he would be tired, but experiencing it isn’t quite the same. He forces himself to stop weeping and sniffs as he backs away from Diantha to soothe Calem. Thankfully, Calem has proved to be a peaceful child, and Augustine can calm him down by bouncing him slightly. His mother has praised Calem’s lack of colic to high heaven, Augustine can’t begin to wonder what it had to be like for her, with two newborns, and then two toddlers and now two teenagers. At least with Calem, Augustine can stand one-on-one.

“You know I can tell you’re nodding off.” Diantha says matter-of-factly.

(Augustine knows she can.)

“I am _not_ nodding off.” Augustine says, except he hasn’t slept in days and his mouth feels like cotton, so it comes out like ‘ _’m naht n’dding ´ff_ ’.

Diantha looks at him flatly. When she leans forward to pick Calem from his arms, Augustine lets go, feeling odd in the way his stomach twists when he realizes Calem will be away from him while he sleeps.

Augustine’s arms remain outstretched, wanting to pull Calem back to him.

Diantha forces him down to the bed with her foot, pushing on his chest until he finally lies down.

“You _sleep_.” She orders. “I’ll take Calem until you can think clearly and then we can talk about the École,” Diantha continues, getting up from the bed with a grace Augustine couldn’t dream of matching in the best of days. “Apollon, come on.” The riolu doesn’t even look back at Augustine before jumping down from the bed and toward his sister, and once they’re all outside, Diantha smiles at him and closes the door.

For the first few minutes, Augustine rolls around in his bed, dreading the conversation with Diantha. The decision nags at his chest, makes him a jittery mess whenever he so much as thinks about it. He feels the muscles of his neck coiling painfully, and Augustine takes a deep breath that doesn’t have the desired effect of loosening them. Augustine has to take care of Calem, and this is the most obvious exchange: his son over the school he has dreamed of since he was a child.

Augustine puts his pillow over his head and closes his eyes.

**{…}**

The sky is already painted orange and yellow by the time Augustine wakes up and lazily pulls the pillow from over his head. That the pillow is still even over his head at that point should be a clear indication of just how much he needed to sleep, since he usually moves around so much that it’s not strange if he ends up on the floor.

If anything, Augustine is glad Diantha took the boy for the morning. And the afternoon, apparently.

He wants to get out of bed and walk around, but he also doesn’t want to face Diantha yet.

Then his stomach rumbles, and that’s another decision taken away from him. Augustine gets up and takes a deep breath and braces himself for the family meeting that’s about to ensue.

When he walks down the stairs and turns right toward the living room, he stops in his tracks and doesn’t know if he feels the need to smile or cry, so he does both, because his sister is holding his son who’s staring at the red necklace Augustine himself gave Diantha as a birthday gift two years ago. And then there’s his mom, beaming and taking pictures and Augustine has honestly never seen her looking happier.

“Oh, honey, come see! He’s smiling!” His mom prompts the second she sees him.

Calem is smiling, and Augustine’s chest feels tight. He controls himself because he’s been crying too much these past few days, and he has to stop at one point or another.

Augustine extends his arms forward, and Diantha hands Calem over. If Calem had been staring at Diantha’s necklace, he’s downright goggling at Augustine’s face. Augustine looks right back until the flash of a camera snaps him out of it, and his mom grins at him, hands in front of her mouth and everything.

He lets his mother hold Calem while he tries to make himself something to eat. He’s not very good at it, and every doubt he had since the baby was brought over to Couriway returns with a vengeance until Diantha comes over to help him. She’s been living in Lumiose by herself for a year now, and the pokémon journey Augustine abandoned very early on but Diantha is seeing through to the very end makes for a large difference in skill in, well, pretty much everything that has to do with self-care.

Apollon the riolu is sitting on his shoulders and Diantha picks him up and puts him on the counter. It’s a relief, because Apollon is heavy and though Augustine feels mostly refreshed mentally, his body is still running on lack of sleep.

“You can cut the kelpsy berries,” Diantha tells him, and hands the riolu a knife right before she slides a plate of kelpsy berries toward him. Apollon’s hold on the knife is awkward, but Apollon’s always willing to be helpful, so he nods and gets to work just as Diantha turns to look at Augustine again. “So, the École.”

Augustine sighs. “Mom and I talked about—about giving Calem up for adoption.” He confesses, biting his lip again. He doesn’t protest when Diantha reaches up to pull his lip from between his teeth, but he does focus his eyes on the pomeg berries he’s supposed to dice so Diantha can show him how to grill them properly. “But I’m not! I just—I can’t do both. How would I go to class?”

“You could take him with you.” Diantha says. Augustine wonders how she always manages to sound calm. “And I don’t work every day, either. I could help you.”

“Help?”

“Obviously,” Diantha says. She takes the pomeg berry from him and begins to dice it herself. “And I do own a flat in Lumiose and the movie contract means I have enough money for the three of us to live just fine. You got a scholarship didn’t you? Move in with me and I can help you with Calem…” she trails off and pauses, knife half-dug into the berry. “You… do know we’re helping you, right?”

Augustine must look very uncomfortable, because Diantha lets go of the knife to put her hands on her hips. They’re roughly the same height, and it’s uncomfortable having her look so directly into his eyes while she looks so betrayed.

“Honestly? Mom says you’ve been depressed, is this what that’s about?”

“Yes…?”

It’s Diantha’s turn to sigh. She sneaks a look into the living room to make sure their mom is still talking to Calem and then smacks Augustine up the head.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Gus. Of _course_ we’ll help you. You’re my brother. And I think mom likes Calem better than either of us.”

“But—”

“You were really excited about the École, and I think you should go. You’re the youngest they’ve ever accepted, and that way you’ll get a great job so you can care for Calem.”

“But—”

“You still have four months, Gus. It’s not like you’ll need to feed Calem between every one of your classes by that point or anything.”

Augustine stays quiet and Diantha goes back to dicing berries until it’s time to grill them and she tells him to pay close attention. They finish dinner as a team and Diantha tells Apollon to get some plates from the cupboards. She doesn’t bother telling Augustine how to serve each plate, so Augustine goes to set the table.

When everything is ready, Augustine takes Calem back from his mother. Augustine doesn’t know exactly what it is; Calem’s smile when he’s in his arms, or his sister’s words or the fact that his mom has taken more pictures this week than she probably did in all of his and Diantha’s childhood years.

Augustine bounces Calem slightly and smiles down at him.

“Think you could behave in a classroom, little bug?”


	2. Étude en ut majeur

The whistle deafens him, and he covers Calem’s ears. It bothers him, a little, because of how unnecessary it is. There’s no other trains around, and there’s electric boards that warn passengers when it’s time to leave.

Augustine has lived here his entire life, so he knows Couriway trains will not leave until ten minutes after the warning. He breathes in, breathes out and, looking at Calem sleeping in his carrier, he takes out an army knife and carves his thoughts into the wood of the bench.

* * *

Lumiose is every bit as big and loud as Augustine remembers it being when he last visited a little over a year ago.

Augustine tries not to be too nervous as he cradles Calem to his chest. At four months, Calem is awfully perceptive of others’ emotions, which is only just one more reason for Augustine to stay as upbeat as he can through this whole thing.

In front of him, Diantha’s personal driver hauls his bags onto the trunk of the sleek black car that had been waiting for his arrival. He wants to ask the man how long he had been waiting, if he had made him lose too much time, or at least if he can pay him anything for putting up with having to pick him up from the train station.

To be honest, Augustine is still in shock that Diantha even has a personal driver.

He can see that a couple of people are looking at him, and he’s not sure if it’s because they want to steal his car or because he’s holding Calem. It’s Lumiose, so it could be either. Or both. Or none.

Calem babbles into the crook of his neck and taps his shoulder with a tiny hand and, for a second, Augustine forgets that he’s in the middle of a crowd. He shushes the boy as gently as he can and bounces him lightly on his arms until the driver finishes loading all his things into the can and looks at him.

“Miss Carnet told me to take you to her apartment. Is there anywhere else you need to go first?” The man asks.

Augustine needs to go to the École to pick up his student ID and get a tour of the place, but that can wait until tomorrow. Calem is already restless from the train ride and Augustine is not really sure he wants to take a tour while both of them are hungry.

“Ah, no, that’s fine.”

“If you say so, sir,” The driver says before he opens the door for him. Even more heads turn toward them at that, and Augustine hugs Calem tighter to his chest until the boy taps him hard on the shoulder and he changes his hold instead, one hand supporting the back of Calem’s head.

Augustine gets on the backseat as fast as he can and thanks the driver when he starts to close the door. He gets a nod for his trouble, but not much else, and the man doesn’t look like he’s about to start talking on the way to Diantha’s flat.

He knows Diantha’s place is in the South Boulevard, and he also has a vague recollection of how long it takes to travel by car in Lumiose City, so Augustine forces himself to relax into the leather seat.

The windows aren’t tinted, so Augustine shifts until Calem can look outside and he can hold the boy securely. He’s not exactly sure just how much Calem can see, but he can at least talk to him until they get to South Boulevard.

“There are so many people, huh?” Augustine says, and Calem hits the window with his hand. Augustine decides to take that as an agreement. “And there’s so many buildings too. Oh, look!” He excitedly points to a large gated complex that has a regal air to it, even if the people walking around it don’t. They can only see the side, but Augustine’s heart skips a beat just being this close. “That’s where Papa’s going to study.”

Calem squeals and hits the glass again, this time with both hands, and then presses his face on the window like he wants to taste and smell and feel everything at once. Augustine grins and pulls him away from the window before he can slobber all over it, cradling him face up.

“Your Aunt Diantha is going to spoil you so much, Calem, you’ll see.” Augustine tells the boy. “Maybe she’ll let you play with her necklace, but you’re not allowed to pull on it if it’s on her neck, you hear?” Calem blows a raspberry and grins up at his dad, and Augustine is not sure what that means, but he’s willing to let it go for now.

Augustine looks out the window again, hypnotized by the amount of buildings and the different people making their way to wherever. He has been in Lumiose before, a couple of times—Calem is living proof of it—but Lumiose seems ever-changing. When he looks, the cafés he had previously visited and the art galleries he had marveled at were gone, replaced with high-end boutiques and souvenir shops featuring miniatures of the Prism Tower and stuffed toys of the Gogoat Shuttle.

He makes a mental note to stop there after picking up his ID the next day, as Calem doesn’t have much in the way of plush toys.

Augustine shushes Calem when he begins to fuss, bouncing him a bit and using his nose to tickle the baby’s cheek like his mom taught him. When Calem settles down, Augustine looks back at the window and tries not to gape too much when he sees the giant posters announcing up-and-coming actress Dianatha’s new role as a young girl pursuing a career in figure skating. He shouldn’t be surprised, because this is, after all, Diantha, but Augustine can only imagine how complicated it must be to appear as the protagonist of an artistic masterpiece after only a couple of TV appearances and cheesy commercials.

The first thing Augustine thinks when he sees Diantha’s new building is ‘warehouse’. The place is tall and certainly imposing, though not nearly as elegant as the rest of the complexes around it: it’s rough, made of brown brick and clearly industrial in its purpose. It’s _original_ purpose, that is. When the front door is opened by a doorman in a pressed uniform and Diantha steps out, it’s clear that the inside of the building has been entirely repurposed.

“Gus!” Diantha calls, smile plastered on her face and arms open like she’s asking for a hug. In turn, it’s Calem who opens his arms and laughs until Diantha is standing in front of them and bent down slightly so she can caress his face “Aw, of course I missed you, Calem.” She takes him out of Augustine’s arms, and he’s a little relieved at that.

He massages his arms, looks to where the driver is getting his bags out of the trunk, and tries to go and help. Diantha catches his arm before he can move too much, and when he looks back, she’s frowning at him.

“What?” He asks.

“Let Frédéric take them. You’d probably drop them on your feet.”

Augustine goes red to the tips of his ears and pulls his lip out in a deliberate pout. “I carried those bags all the way from the house to this station, you know.”

Diantha smiles, “Uh-huh. And how many times did you drop them?”

“Just once,” Augustine says, he goes to grab Calem but Diantha gives a step back, cradling him closer and letting Calem’s head rest on her shoulder. “I did drop them just once. But… okay, so I might have let the straps get caught in a couple of doors.”

He goes to grab Calem again, and Diantha nimbly steps back. “You can take your bags upstairs, then, right?”

“Er, yeah.”

“Thank you, Frédéric,” Diantha turns to look at the driver while Augustine pulls his and Calem’s bags over his shoulders and chest. “Collette has been calling non-stop so I don’t forget tomorrow’s photoshoot. Do you think you could be here around seven?”

Augustine hears the driver answer politely and then the door of a car closing by the time he manages to haul his suitcase up the front stairs and pull the handle the way up so he can drag it behind him. Once inside, Diantha introduces him to the doorman. It makes sense, of course, that Diantha would introduce him, but Augustine still feels odd about the whole thing, and the weak handshake he gives the man must be evidence of it.

Still, Augustine follows Diantha to the elevator and forces himself to relax. He focuses on Calem, restless but clearly happy in his aunt’s arms, and Diantha all but coos over him, making Calem squeal at the attention.

“Oh, but you look more like your daddy every time I see you!” She says. She gives Augustine a side glance and lowers her voice to a shouting whisper “Except, you know, cute.”

“You and I have the same face!” Augustine sputters, indignant.

Diantha gives him a small, knowing smile “Of course we don’t, Gus. We’re not identical twins, remember?”

“You never let me forget.”

When the elevator pings and the doors open, Diantha steps out and puts a hand on the side of the door so Augustine can step out without trouble.

“Welcome,” Diantha says. She gestures to the entire place, and Augustine envies the way she can move so easily even when she’s holding Calem.

“You’ve got to teach me to do that.” He whispers. Diantha is not listening; she’s already standing near the hallway, expectantly waiting until Augustine’s done doing whatever she thinks he’s doing.

“Your room is the same as before,” Diantha tells him, when he reaches her. “But I got the living place connected to it cleaned out and put in a crib. The paint is beige, I hope that’s okay.”

It’s more than Augustine had been expecting, even though he knows Diantha would never make him uncomfortable on purpose.

“No, that’s—That’s great, Di.” Augustine tells her, then he smiles down at his son. “Right Calem? You get your own room!”

Calem blows a raspberry, and Diantha looks particularly unamused by this. “Did you teach him to do that?”

“No,” Augustine says “I think he just likes hearing it.”

“I hope it’s a phase.”

Augustine smiles and a chuckle escapes his lips. He feels odd; his stomach is queasy since he saw the École, and he’s unsure of whether it’s excitement or plain nervousness or even a combination of both. Even before getting on the train, Augustine had been anxious about everything: Calem and the ride and how they would feel once they were attempting to settle in Diantha’s flat.

He has to admit, however, that the second he sees the familiar guest room, part of his stomach settles. It doesn’t feel strange, being here. When he read up on in-school housing, the stories were all of homesickness and empty feelings on people’s chests, but here, Augustine has his son, and he has his sister, and that somehow makes everything better.

“When’s the big championship?” Augustine asks as he puts the bags down on his bed. The covers are a dark blue, just like last time, and next to him is a bedside table where he finds a book he had forgotten there, too.

“In about half a year. Do you want to come?”

“Of course! Why would I miss my sister becoming the new champion?” Augustine is looking through the bags, now to look for the stray items that didn’t fit into Calem’s diaper bag.

Diantha sits on an empty space of the bed and settles Calem next to her. Calem looks around until he can stare directly into the lights and squeals and claps his hands clumsily.

“Well, battles were never truly your thing, I believe, and I didn’t know if you’d want Calem to be around so much noise.” Diantha says. She goes to tickle Calem’s underarms and when he squirms in obvious discomfort, she stops to look at Augustine.

“Mom says his nervous system isn’t developed and that he feels a little pain when you do that,” Augustine says, “But he likes it when I tickle his stomach.” Diantha doesn’t even try, she just begins to caress Calem’s face with her fingers, “And, I mean, I’m already taking him to school. I think he will be fine with earmuffs.”

“If you say so,” Diantha grabs Calem’s legs and moves them around a little. “Did you call mom yet?”

“I did. When I got to the station. I’m supposed to call her tomorrow after I pick up my things at the École.” Augustine pauses at this point, hand hovering over his pocket. “Where are your pokémon?”

Diantha looks around until she locates a small bag of toys and leans over Calem to reach it. She pulls out a togepi rattle and hands it to Calem, who seems content with smashing it against the mattress. “I didn’t want Calem to get scared, so I thought I should introduce him one by one.” She pulls a pokéball out from her pocket and looks like she’s bracing herself for impact as she throws it in the air.

Her worry is unnecessary.

Artémis the Gardevoir is the first pokémon Diantha ever received, and so gets the honor of being the first of her team that Calem gets to see. Like when he met Apollon, Calem is thrilled to meet her. Artémis stands cautiously beside the bed, and Augustine pauses his unpacking to watch the interaction. Calem squeals and squirms until he seems to remember how to ask for things, and the baby raises tiny arms up at Artémis, asking to be picked up.

Artémis, for her part, was obviously not expecting that, and she looks to Diantha, who looks over to Augustine for permission. Augustine trusts Artémis, but he still walks around the bed to pick Calem up himself, bringing the baby to his chest.

“Calem, this is Aunt Diantha’s gardevoir. Her name is Artémis.” Augustine whispers in the baby’s ear.

Calem babbles excitedly as he reaches out from his father’s arms, and Artémis looks unsure until Diantha smiles.

“You’ve never been that close to a baby before, have you?” She asks. Artémis shakes her head, though she doesn’t let her eyes stray far from Calem. “Well, Artémis, this is Calem. Just lean in and let him touch your arm.”

Artémis obeys immediately. She makes sure Calem won’t hurt himself as he’s waving his arms and slowly puts her hand between them, letting the baby pat it.

“Ah, Calem, bug, gentle.” Augustine puts his hand over Calem’s to direct it softly over the green fur of Artémis’ arm. Then he turns the boy to look at him, “Want to look at another of Aunt Di’s pokémon?”

Calem reacts to the excitement Augustine put in his own voice with a high-pitched sound of exhilaration. Augustine looks to Diantha, who is already rolling a Level ball between her fingers. She throws it up, and Calem eyes follow the beam of light and stare when it diminishes to show the red white and green feathers of a hawlucha.

“Oh!” Augustine praises, giving Calem a bounce. “Look, it’s Mittens!”

At the same time Calem mimics a ‘ooh!’, hawlucha crosses her arms over his chest and pins Augustine with a snarl.

“She’s Nightingale, now,” Diantha provides “Don’t call her Mittens, it will be a thing.”

“Oh,” Augustine says, smartly. “Well, then look at Nightingale, Calem!” He corrects, but looks to the hawlucha with pleading eyes. “He won’t be able to pronounce that for a while, so, don’t be angry, please.”

When Calem tries to pet Nightingale’s feathers with tiny, clumsy hands, the pokémon accepts the request by nodding. Other than the name, the hawlucha doesn’t seem to have any other issues with Augustine or Calem, and even lets the boy bury his fingers on the red feathers of her chest, though he draws the line at letting Calem grab the cape-like feathers of her wings.

When Nightingale finally steps back to stand next to Artémis, Diantha hesitates. “You know Teddie and  Gémeaux are too big to show them here,” She starts, “So maybe we can go to Vert Plaza sometime this week and introduce him then. But,” She looks at her two remaining pokéballs; one black and green, the other pink. “One of them is a gourgeist. I know you’re a little scared of ghost pokémon, so…”

Augustine shifts Calem in his arms, bouncing him as the boy tried to reach for the pokémon at the corner of the room. “I… think Calem should meet all of them. I am going to study pokémon, too, I need to get over myself.”

Augustine chuckles uncomfortably and Diantha frowns a little, but does what her brother asks her. She throws the black-and-green ball, and points at the pokémon that comes out before the gourgeist can even move.

“Citrouille,” She says, her voice firm “Same rules apply. No funny singing.”

The gourgeist looks at Diantha before nodding, but when her gaze shifts back to Augustine, her expression becomes an eerie smile, and Augustine gulps. He tells himself that Citrouille won’t disobey, but out of all the ghost types out there, gourgeist is the one that Augustine trusts the least, so he has a hard time keeping calm.

Though Diantha says this and assures Augustine that nothing bad will happen, Augustine makes it a point to not let the gourgeist near Calem, even when the baby won’t tear his eyes away from the orange body of the pokémon.

Artémis quickly stands between them, and Citrouille seems outright pleased at getting a reaction from all of them. Augustine shifts Calem so their chests are touching, and a small beep from his watch reminds him it’s almost time for Calem’s meal.

“What’s your last pokémon?” Augustine asks. “You never did tell me.”

Diantha smiles “She’s a goodra. Her name is Goober.” She’s still holding the pink pokéball in her hand, but she’s not giving any sign that she’s actually planning to throw it. “She’s uncomfortable around children, though.” As she says this, she seems to come to a conclusion, and swiftly tucks the ball in her pocket. “I think we should wait to introduce them.”

Augustine can only agree, and he has to admit it gives him more chance to sort everything out for Calem’s meal. From his jeans, Augustine takes a pokéball and throws it, letting his own pokémon out. Apollon is on Artémis’ arms almost immediately, and Artémis seems just as thrilled to see Apollon.

“Apollon,” Augustine calls, and Apollon cuts his boisterous conversation with Artémis to look at his trainer. “Can you help prepare Cal’s formula? Maybe you can show Artémis how to do it, too.”

Apollon jumps from Artémis’ arms to run to the bed and locate Calem’s diaper bag. When he does, he gestures to Artémis, who looks giddy to help and goes to pick up the bag, too big for Apollon to carry.

“Can I help you with anything?” Diantha asks.

“Ah, I wanted Calem’s room to be ready, so… if you could watch him for a while…?” He trails off, but Diantha is already grabbing Calem back from him and cradling him to her chest, cooing all the while.

Calem, it turns out, is something of a show for the pokémon. When Augustine finishes unpacking Calem’s things and hurries to the kitchen to feed him, Apollon drags Artémis until they’re both sitting next to him and the baby. When the others realize the beige couch is the place to be, Nightingale rushes to Augustine’s other side, and even Citrouille the gourgeist moves to sit on the table so she can have a clear, unobstructed view.

Augustine finds he can’t really blame any of them; Calem coos and looks at them all like they are the most interesting beings on the planet, though he cuddles to Augustine’s chest as if he’s the safest. Whenever Calem does that, Augustine gets a horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach, and he wants to go back in time to when Adriane pushed Calem into his arms and tell himself to not even think about giving up the baby.

He doesn’t know if it’s guilt or something else, but he knows regret has something to do with it.

* * *

 With Calem in a carrier strapped to his chest, and a note with directions in hand, Augustine makes for the subway of Lumiose City just as morning traffic begins to take over the streets.

He’s thankful when he takes a seat on a clean, brightly-lit subway car, that Diantha lives in the inner circle of the city, or else he would have to commute through a dirtier, more dangerous line every morning.

He double-checks Calem’s diaper bag even though he knows it would be too late to turn back to get anything at this point. The digital clock detailing arrival times attached to the wall of the car reads eight AM, and when he looks at his wristwatch, Augustine adjusts the time so his watch and the subway clock are synchronized, just like Diantha told him to.

Most people, Augustine notices, steer clear from him when they realize one of the bags he’s carrying is actually a baby, and when a small girl comes over to ask what the baby’s name is, her mother quickly grabs her by the hand and pulls her away, a sneer plastered on her face.

Augustine places a hand over Calem’s head and feels only relief that Calem is asleep for this. He wonders if Calem would understand, or even notice the way the other passengers are looking at them, and decides he doesn’t want to find out.

When the subway arrives at their stop, Augustine is quick to grab the diaper bag and rush out of the ocean of judging stares.

Augustine’s breaths come out in short pants, and Calem starts to squirm in response. He tells himself to stop. This is something he knew would happen; he’s sixteen, but he could pass for fourteen, and he has a baby strapped to his chest. People assume things, he knows, and his mother told him not to mind. So he’s trying.

Instead, Augustine focuses on the subway station. As expected of something so close to Centrico Plaza, the floors are shiny black marble and the ceilings are high and arch at the top. He’s the only one that seemingly takes notice. Everyone else is walking, stepping around him when they realize he’s on their path, and Augustine starts to move, too.

**{...}**

The lady at the desk is pretty but obviously works the night shift and her replacement isn’t here yet. Augustine can tell by the bored, tired look on her face and the looseness of her hairdo and the way she looks at Calem like he’s the student there for his tour instead of Augustine.

“Do you have your letter?” She asks. She’s still looking at Calem, even leans to the side to get a better view.

Augustine pulls his acceptance letter out from the diaper bag and hands it to her. “I’m going for—”

“The accelerated Biological Sciences degree. I know sweetie, it says so right here.” She doesn’t point but she does give the letter a small, non-committal wave. Augustine blushes, shifts from foot to foot.

“Ah, uh. Right.”

“Your tour group will leave in ten minutes through the east door,” She says, and points. Then she blinks, holds up a finger asking Augustine to wait, and disappears through the door behind her. When she returns, she hands him a packet and a bag with the school emblem stitched in the front.

Since there is no one else in the room and he still has time to spare, Augustine checks the folder. To his surprise, it already holds his schedule, along with an academic calendar, a new student checklist, a map of the school, and campus meal plans. He puts the papers back in the folder and then puts everything inside the bag before slinging that over the shoulder already supporting the diaper bag.

“Thank you,” Augustine says as he tries to balance everything.

“Of course. You will take your ID pictures at the end of the end of the tour, so make sure those curls are still presentable by then,” The woman smiles pleasantly, eyes shifting back to Calem. “You have a cute baby.”

**{…}**

The stop at the souvenir shop has Calem squealing in delight, though Augustine is not sure just how much he can see from his place in the carrier. And maybe it’s better this way, he’s not sure he would be able to leave something Calem seemed to like behind.

Augustine still ends up buying a little more than he planned to, adding some onesies and plush toys to the original gogoat toy he had seen the day before.

Almost as they’re getting home, Calem taps hard on his chest, and Augustine startles when he looks down and sees Calem’s lip quivering and big gray eyes wet with tears.

“Oh, what’s wrong, bug?” As he says this, Augustine rushes into the apartment building, barely nodding in greeting to the doorman in his race to get to the elevator to reach the penthouse.

Calem only taps harder on his chest, so when they step out of the elevator, Augustine drops all the bags on the floor and unstraps Calem from his chest to check him over. He doesn’t have any scratches, but that’s not keeping Calem from wailing, so Augustine checks his diaper, and Calem uses this opportunity to bite Augustine’s sleeve.

“Don’t do that, baby boy,” Augustine admonishes gently, prying his sleeve away from his son’s mouth. The wailing comes back with a vengeance, and Augustine thinks it’s a bit ironic that Calem mimics him when he reaches to rub at his ears. “Come on, I already fed you, too. Are you warm? You were fine at the subway.”

Despite Augustine taking off Calem’s coveralls, the boy keeps crying. No amount of cuddling him seems to be doing any good, and Augustine is reaching his wit’s end. He grabs the shopping bag and takes out a dedenne plush toy that he pushes into Calem’s chest.

Calem immediately latches his mouth into the plush toy’s ear and Augustine does a double take. He reaches slowly to pry the toy away from his son’s mouth, and finally sees it. Augustine picks Calem up, cradling him and toy to his chest, and briskly walks toward the telephone.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Mom—”

“ _Hi, honey! How was that tour? You were really excited. Is the train you have to take okay? Was Calem good?_ ”

Augustine bounces on the balls of his feet, Calem’s head resting on his shoulder. “Yes, mom. It was fine, but, listen—”

“ _You’ll have to take a couple of toys to your classes, though,”_ His mom interrupts _“your days are going to be much longer than this, aren’t they?_ ”

“Yes, mom. But I need—”

“ _Is Diantha_ —”

“Mom!” Augustine says forcibly. The line goes silent, and Calem whimpers when Augustine’s movements make him stop chewing on his toy. “What should I do if Calem’s teething?!”

The squeal is so high-pitched Augustine has to pull the phone away from his ear.


	3. Valse en la bémol majeur

Diantha is tired.

She steps through the threshold of her apartment building and doesn’t quite say hello to the doorman, just sort of grunts and rubs at her eyes, though she does nod at him as politely as she can. She can’t help it; she hasn’t been home in days, stuck at with her castmates at a location shoot which essentially means terrible bathrooms and uncomfortable beds.

All she wants is to take a relaxing bath and eat some warm, real food and go to sleep with the AC pointed directly at her.

When she steps through the door, she groans and holds her head. Calem is crying, his voice bouncing on the walls and echoing painfully inside her head. She unceremoniously drops her bags on the floor and marches through Augustine's room and into Calem's nursery.

“Why is he crying?” She asks.

A groan, “Hmm?”

Augustine is on the floor, Calem on his chest, and when he looks up, Diantha winces in sympathy. Augustine looks even more tired than she feels. The bruises under his eyes are prominent to the point of looking almost like wrinkles, his chin and cheeks covered by a three-day beard that only makes him look unkempt.

“Why is the baby crying, Gus?” Diantha repeats. She's tired, but she can hardly be angry at her brother if it's obvious he's suffering, too.

“Nightmares, the doctor said. No fever.” Augustine sleepily rubs a hand on Calem's back. He reaches to the small dresser and gets Calem's pacifier. When he offers it, Calem hits his hand to reject it.

“He’s six months old.” Diantha says. She doesn’t try to approach, Calem would probably cry harder if she tried to pull him away from his dad.

“Six-month-olds get nightmares, Di.” Augustine says. “The doctor said it could have something to do with the teething, but maybe also with being in class all day long. Overstimulation, maybe.”

Diantha sighs. “Well, at least I don't work tomorrow. Do you have class?”

“No. Just a lot of homework.” Augustine sits up. He rubs his face and stands up, pulling Calem into a different position so he can try bouncing him. Calem's wails recede slightly, Augustine's entire body sags in relief.

“We could go to that playground on the Nature Trail. That should be quiet.” Diantha brushes the top of Calem's head with her fingers. Pauses. “I have an idea.”

Without further warning, she frees Artémis the gardevoir from her pokéball. Augustine looks at the gardevoir, then at his sister, and Diantha knows he would have tried raising an eyebrow if his head wasn’t pounding with a headache from all the crying.

“She learned a couple moves for a scene,” Diantha sighs. “It’s not my style, but it could be useful for the Championship.”

“Okay?” Augustine looks dead on his feet, and Diantha finally turns to her pokémon.

“Can you put him to sleep, Artémis?” Diantha asks.

Artémis nods, offering her arms for Augustine to deposit Calem in them. Augustine hesitates, cradling the boy closer to himself and pursing his lips. At the movement, Calem only cries harder, and Augustine sighs as he places him on Artémis’s hands.

Artémis stares directly at Calem, and the wriggling boy struggles until he opens his eyes and looks right into the gardevoir’s.

It’s not even gradual. Calem calms down in less than five seconds, and a second later he’s yawning and his eyes closing heavily.

“Thank you,” Augustine says, picking Calem back up and away from Artémis so he can put him back in the crib. “So much.”

Artémis nods, and when she looks around, Augustine informs her that he put Apollon in his pokéball so at least one of them could get some sleep.

“Are you sure he wasn’t just overtired?” Diantha asks.

Augustine’s chest and arms dangle over the side of the crib, staring at Calem sleep peacefully for the first time in what feels like forever.

“I mean, that might have something to do with it. But he hasn’t slept through the night since we got here.” Augustine lifts himself up from the guardrail. “Which means I haven’t slept through the night since we got here. I’m going to bed, okay?”

“I’ll have the lunches ready for tomorrow’s picnic,” Diantha assures him, “Artémis, could you stay here? If Calem starts having nightmares...”

Artémis nods before Diantha finishes her thought.

Diantha goes to her room and doesn’t hear a peep for the rest of the night.

 

The next day, Diantha allows herself to sleep in for a few minutes before she gets up, feeling rested if not quite good as new. She makes sandwiches for her and Augustine but she falters when she sees Calem’s diaper bag, since she hasn’t really figured out if the boy is eating or still only drinking formula or what. She feels a little guilty about this, she had promised Augustine she would help but it’s been two months and not once has she even babysat Calem for the afternoon.

By the time she showers, dresses, and makes sure their bag has everything they’ll need, Augustine shuffles in, dragging his feet and carrying a wide-awake Calem. Diantha looks up from her place at the counter, where she had been studiously reading the latest issue of Pokémon Monthly, and promptly freezes.

“No, no.” She starts. She gets up, takes Calem from her brother’s arms, and pushes on Augustine’s arm until he backs up a couple steps. “You’re not going out like that.”

Augustine looks down at his green shirt and offensively orange vest and frowns. “What’s wrong with it?”

Diantha adjusts her grip on Calem and lets him pat her cheek while she looks incredulously at Augustine. “You’re going to hurt someone’s eyes, Gus. Did you go colorblind in the last few months?”

Calem is wearing an adorable pikachu onesie that is impossible to put together with whatever Augustine thinks he’s wearing.

Augustine actually looks mortified, “Is it that bad?!” he rubs his face, then the front of his shirt like he’s trying to console it for being ugly.

Diantha sighs, hesitates. “I mean. It’s not something I would wear… but if you like it…” She pauses because she can’t bring herself to say that it’s okay to wear it, but Augustine grins enthusiastically all the same.

Augustine takes the boy back from Diantha and holds him up in the air, still grinning. “Who already ate?” he coos, pausing to kiss Calem’s cheek, and then repeats the process. Calem giggles madly, and Diantha smiles at the interaction.

“There’s some yogurt on the counter. Just tell me what needs to go in Calem’s bag.” Says Diantha.

Augustine rattles off a list of toys, a teething ring, extra diapers, and five bottles of formula along with a single jar of pureed oran berries. Under her breath, Diantha mutters about it being a picnic and not a wartime trench. It hardly matters, though, Diantha still packs everything Augustine tells her to, and he eats the yogurt and entertains Calem until they leave.

Augustine is so glad Diantha is paying for a cab that he offers to cook for the next two months, provided nobody expects culinary artistry out of him, since he did only just start cooking.

“Why didn’t you call Frédéric, though?” Augustine asks, once they’ve gotten off the cab and Diantha points the correct way toward the Nature Trail. He shushes Calem, who’s sweating and writhing and whimpering from the heat.

“It’s his free day. Besides, if I called him, Collette would try to feed me my schedule, I’m afraid.” Says Diantha.

Augustine can see the gate now, giant 14 engraved on top and everything. He bounces Calem, grinning, and points it out to him even though he’s pretty sure babies aren’t be able to distinguish anything if it isn’t in contrasting colors. He’s trying not to pay attention to other people, but he has to admit, this time nobody is looking at him. Maybe it’s because he’s with Diantha this time, or maybe it’s all about the part of town they’re in. Either way, Augustine is glad.

He’s not nearly that glad when they reach the Nature Trail. He turns to Diantha to glare, because this place looks more like the beginning of a swamp than an actual playground, though there are swings and slides and apparently permanent shade, if the thick treetops are to be taken as a hint.

Calem stops whimpering the second they get there, though. Augustine wipes the sweat away from his son’s forehead just as Calem stops fighting him in favor of looking around, his mood much better now they’re out of the sweltering heat and in the cool air of the Nature Trail.

Augustine sighs. “Fine,” he agrees. “Let’s stay here a while.”

They do more than that. Diantha frees her Tyrantrum and Aurorus just as Augustine is letting Apollon out to enjoy some fresh air. Calem, on his stomach in a blanket they had unrolled over the grass, reaches toward Diantha’s pokémon, then clumsily attempts to push himself to his elbows.

Diantha chuckles brightly and picks him up, leaving Augustine to lay down on the blanket and put an arm over his eyes. Apollon quickly joins him, climbing on top of his trainer’s stomach and sprawling until Augustine’s other hand comes to rest on his back. Diantha makes sure Calem can’t wriggle free from her grasp before she motions for her pokémon to listen.

“You know my brother,” She starts, pointing at Augustine with her head.  “This is his son, Calem. Calem, these are Teddie and Gémeaux.”

Diantha’s pokémon are careful. They lean in gently to smell him and tap their noses lightly against his chest in permission to be touched. Diantha smiles and grabs Calem’s hand in her own to guide him on how to pet each pokémon. Then, she doubts.

“Hey, Gus. Are you awake?” She asks.

Augustine’s answer is a sleepy, ‘hmm?’

“Would it be cruel to get Goober to meet Calem?”

“What? Why would it be cruel?” Augustine yawns, but sits up, holding Apollon securely to himself. “I mean, pokémon like little kids.”

“Yeah, but,” Diantha sighs. She lets the rest of her pokémon free so they can run around. As if they know the place, they all run toward the swings without prompting. “Goober is a little different. Or, well, I guess not. But she used to be part of a daycare and—”

She stops. She’s still holding Calem, so she bounces him, pecks his cheek. She doesn’t finish talking, but she’s clearly waiting for an answer. Augustine is just tired.

“I don’t know about cruel. But maybe you should talk to her beforehand instead of just dragging her out.” Augustine shifts Apollon with the intention of distributing his weight more evenly in his lap, but the riolu snaps awake and, when he notices Artémis pushing Citrouille on a swing, he gets up to join them.

Diantha finally sits down. She bites her lip, but nods. When she sees her pokémon, she turns towards August, Calem still in her lap.

“Can he use a swing? There’s one for babies,” She points to the swing furthest from them.

Augustine frowns, “No? He can’t sit yet. He can’t even roll over.”

“Oh. But—”

Augustine puts his arms out and Diantha hands Calem over. “He’s just… late. Mom was worried, you know? But he’s just a late bloomer, I think. The doctor says there’s nothing to worry about.”

For now, though, Calem seems happy with watching Augustine make funny faces at him, and the occasional visit of one of Diantha’s curious pokémon could very well be the highlight of his day with how he squeals and clumsily reaches for them.

It’s a nice change of pace for all of them, lying around with cool air around them instead of hectically running around trying to balance classes and schedules. Their pokémon seem to think the same, because they play listlessly, pushing each other on the swings and daring one another to slide down Teddie’s rough scaly back.

Apollon doesn’t wait too long to come over, Artémis in hand. He jumps on Diantha’s lap, as Augustine’s is occupied, and excitedly points up the road leading deeper into route fourteen.

“I’m not sure we can go up there, Apollon. It really looks like a swamp, you know?” Augustine says.

He doesn’t need to explain that Calem is there, Apollon has taken the role of almost-second parent the last few months. Still, Apollon shakes his head. He points again, up the road, then taps his own chest, then back to the road. He leaps into Artémis’ arms, and Diantha doesn’t try to stop him.

Diantha, instead, tilts her head a little, eyes slightly squinted, and sighs. “So you want to go by yourselves?”

Apollon nods, looks at Augustine as if to ask for permission, though Diantha is already nodding.

“Uh,” Augustine hesitates. “Are you sure? What if you run into an angry pokémon or something?”

Apollon looks over when Diantha groans, though a smile graces her face. Augustine knows that smile has sold many products before, and if Diantha manages to win the Championship, the number will only increase. He cradles Calem close and hopes his jealousy doesn’t show on his face.

“Careful, Gus,” Diantha’s voice turns teasing, “your overprotective dad is showing.”

Augustine can feel the blush that takes over his face, and he clears his throat, looking for a defense. “Apollon is not used to battling, that’s all.”

“He’ll be with Artémis,” Diantha says matter-of-factly, “She’s used to battling.”

Augustine doesn’t really have any other reason Apollon should stay put, so he nods. “Be careful.”

The pair cheers, and it reminds Augustine of the day he and Diantha left their home for the first time, Artémis still a tiny ralts. And okay, so maybe Diantha is right and he’s being a little overly nostalgic. Augustine looks at Diantha and blinks.

“Maybe you should sleep.” Diantha doesn’t have bags under her eyes, but she looks like she’s close to getting them. Augustine remembers the woman that gave him his papers at the École and suddenly wonders if everyone who lives an adult life is just doomed to perpetually look like a zombie.

“Maybe,” Diantha agrees. It’s not really up for debate, though. Diantha suddenly seems to remember she hasn’t slept well the last few days and a yawn automatically takes over her. She lays down on the blanket and closes her eyes.

Augustine doesn’t know exactly how long it takes her to fall asleep, but it must be quick, because the next thing he knows is that all her pokémon look over and then they’re quiet. It reminds Augustine of all the homework he has to do when they get back to the penthouse.

He takes to relaxing for as long as he can, but after a while Augustine sets Calem up with some toys he can use while lying on his tummy, and then starts preparing lunch.

A shout pulls him out of his task, and when he looks up, Apollon is running toward him. The other pokémon look over, too, but Augustine doesn’t notice; he’s already trying to asses if Apollon is hurt.

Apollon jumps to Augustine’s chest, a fist closing around the front of his shirt, and frantically points up the trail. Augustine is not exactly slow in reacting, he just doesn’t quite know what he’s supposed to do.

“Where’s Artémis?” Augustine asks. He fumbles around as he steps over Calem to shake Diantha awake, but Apollon shakes his head to shake his trainer’s concerns away and points toward the trail again. Diantha sits up groggily, and doesn’t seem too concerned that her pokémon in nowhere to be found.

“Is someone else hurt?” Diantha asks, and Apollon nods. Diantha’s other pokémon approach them, though she only orders them to stay put. She reaches for her bag, bites her lip, and stops. “Grab Calem, Gus,” she orders before getting up, sleep-slow but clearly alert.

Augustine does as he’s told; he’s careful in picking up his son and rubs the baby’s back when he gets upset over being separated from his toys. Augustine pulls the hood of Calem’s onesie up and pulls one of the pikachu ears down to let Calem nibble on it: it’s not the best solution, but it’s a solution nonetheless.

Apollon leads the way through thick grass and Augustine cradles Calem closer to him, though the pokémon he catches glimpses of all just stay relatively far away from them, just watching or otherwise unconcerned. Augustine’s socks are wet from where they go into the still water of a small swampish lake, and he keeps his gaze down, stepping carefully to diminish the danger of falling into murky water with his son still in his arms.

“There she is, do you see her?” Diantha asks, and Augustine has to stop and look up and also squint to see the blur of white that is Artémis.

“How did you even do that?” Augustine asks. He looks away from the gardevoir so he can move again.

“I didn’t,” Diantha whispers. She’s not even breaking a sweat, she just looks straight to her pokémon and her legs just seem to know where to land. Augustine cocks his head to one side, and though Diantha is not looking at him, she shrugs. “She just told me where she was.”

Augustine’s eyes widen, a spark coming back to them as he shifts his eyes between the muddy path, his sister, and her gardevoir. “You mean you can communicate with her? Like—telepathically? I’ve heard psychic pokémon can do that with their trainers, but I’ve never met anyone who can actually do it! Did you have to train for that? Is it—Can you tell her things, too, or is it just one-sided?”

Diantha’s smile grows into a laugh, and she finally steps out of the swamp and extends her hand to help Augustine out, too. “You’re such a nerd.”

Augustine pouts, but he knows Diantha means it in the best way possible. He watches as Diantha ignores his questions in favor of rushing toward Artémis, and Augustine does the same, bracing Calem to his side and jogging up what’s left of the slope to catch up.

Diantha is already fussing over an injured pokémon with Artémis looking over her shoulder, so Augustine awkwardly kneels next to her, Calem babbling away. He winces when he sees the poliwag with her foot bent awkwardly, and he shifts Calem so he won’t see even if he tries, though a voice at the back of Augustine’s head tells him Calem wouldn’t be able to make sense of it anyway.

Diantha’s face is twisted in a grimace, hands hovering over the quivering pokémon like she’s not exactly sure if she should touch or not.

“Are you okay?” He asks her, and she sighs.

“I am. But I don’t really know what to do with this…” She motions for the poliwag’s foot and goes to bite her lip before she notices what she’s doing and stops. At her other side, Artémis tries to pet the poliwag only to stop when the poliwag recoils.

Apollon climbs onto Augustine’s lap and buries his face on Augustine’s stomach. In turn, Augustine tries to think of the three months worth of his Intro to Physiology and Health class and knocks his shoulder to Diantha’s.

“Here, take Calem for a bit.” Augustine passes the baby who just seems content to bite on the ear of his onesie and leans in just as Diantha shifts away to give him more space. He holds his fist under the poliwag’s nose to let her get used to his scent, murmuring reassurances under his breath.

The poliwag never stops shivering, but she doesn’t flinch away when Augustine moves his hand to caress the top of her head.

Augustine can feel Diantha’s stare burning the back of his neck.

He’s careful as he disentangles the poliwag from the marsh. Slowly, he cradles the poliwag to his chest, mindful of the hurt leg. He wants to do more; help set the leg or bandage it or something, but he’s not a doctor, only knows to keep pressure off the injury and to make sure the poliwag isn’t jostled too much.

“There’s a pokémon center close by in the city,” Diantha says. She apparently _does_ read minds now.

“Right,” Augustine replies. He bites his lip. “Hey, buddy, it’s going to be just fine. We’re taking you to get help.”

He gets up and hesitates until Diantha ushers him off with her hand. “You go. I’ll get our things.”

So Augustine runs.

It’s easy to ignore everything when you have a one-track mind like Augustine’s, particularly if it’s preoccupied with something already, so he doesn’t notice his sister’s pokémon stop playing to stare at him when he runs by the playground, nor does he see Apollon hastily running behind him, trying to catch up.

The cobblestones under his feet are a relief. It means he’s already in the city, and now he just has to look for the pokémon center. Problem is, Augustine doesn’t have great knowledge of the North Boulevard. And wow, okay, maybe Diantha should have been the one to run and not him. He tries to find his way by using the École as a point of reference, but he’s never been this far… well, this far north.

Thankfully, just as he’s starting to make his way to the local fighting dojo—don’t even question him, it would make sense for the center to be across the street from there—a kind old lady points him in the opposite direction. Because of course the pokémon center would be right in front of the museum. Of course it would.

Augustine feels weak in the knees by the time the head nurse orders a wigglytuff to take the poliwag from him and start treatment.

“Do you have her pokéball?” The nurse asks. She’s smiling in a way Augustine thinks is meant to be reassuring, but Augustine is having a hard time focusing as it is, and he’s never been the greatest when it comes to figuring out body language.

She touches his shoulder lightly when he doesn’t respond. He jumps.

“Oh, uhm. The pokéball, right,” Apollon, Augustine finally notices, latches onto his leg and rubs his snout against him. “No, she’s-uhm. She’s wild. My pokémon found her.”

Apollon, looks up at the nurse, who in turn looks down, and chirps a positive response, backing Augustine up.

The nurse stares between them.

“Well, you’re very lucky she didn’t attack you, then. That’s a dangerous thing to do.” Augustine squirms under her gaze. He can’t tell if she’s just being admonishing or if he’s truly angry at him for… for something. “Thank you.”

Augustine startles. “What?”

“It’s dangerous to do things like that,” the nurse smiles. “So most people don’t. It’s nice to see someone who likes pokémon enough to help.”

Augustine just stares dumbly. When he doesn’t really move or say anything else, the nurse smiles again and tells him he’s more than welcome to wait around the center for news. Augustine doesn’t have anywhere else to go; his keys are in Calem’s diaper bag, and Calem is with Diantha, so the best thing to do is wait.

“Huh,” is the smart, well-structured thought that comes out from Diantha’s mouth when he tells her what the nurse said. Augustine has Calem back in his arms, and the weight of him is calming. “Maybe you should switch majors and become a nurse instead.”

Recovered from the earlier adrenaline, Augustine snorts and pouts and waves off her words.

 

A month later, when his first round of finals is fought and won, Augustine ends up going to the Central pokémon center and asking for an assistant job. He should enjoy the three-week break Accelerated Program students get before classes restart. Especially when the nurse kindly tells him they can’t pay him.

But Augustine has to try harder than anybody else. He heard the comments everyone in his classes made when he came out on top of the class in every subject, and he’s going to prove them all wrong.

Besides, they _can_ offer a daycare for Calem, and that’s a plus no matter how he sees it.

He learns more on those three weeks than he had in his entire academic career, and returns to the École readier than he felt at the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter deals more in-depth with Augustine's classmates and their, ah... reactions. They're only mentioned briefly here. So, next chapter starts before this one ends... and then catches up and goes from there. Don't worry, either tags or warnings will be added at the start of the chapter to remind you guys of this.


	4. Nocturne en si majeur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this is a chapter where Augustine's classmates say /bad/ things about him, okay? They're all sexual in nature, too, and there's homophobic language being thrown around. You've been warned.
> 
> Also, chapter starts before chapter 3 ends and goes from there.

‘No’ is Calem’s new favorite word.

Or, at least, the closest sound to a ‘no’ an almost-five-month old can make.

The teacher is glaring at him, and Augustine wants to melt into his chair. Around him, whispers erupt in a mixture of cooing and insulting words. His classmates praise Calem, though Augustine has a hard time distinguishing between praises for his talking and silent cheers over the teacher’s face.

“Sycamore,” The Professor starts. _And of course_ , Augustine thinks, as he feels his shoulders raising in embarrassment, _of course it had to be this teacher_. The one perpetually dressed in a suit and tie, the one who hadn’t cracked a smile in two months, and whose final project was worth the entirety of the grade. “Do step outside.”

Augustine can’t even look at the man in the eye. In the back of his mind, he knows this is unfair; the people behind him always talk about women and bars and whether they’ll get high at the end of the day. Rich boys, whose parents have no problem paying for a top university and who don’t have to worry about doing well. The teacher never says anything. And Calem is only a baby. He wants to say that talking loud is what babies do, ask the teacher for another chance, but he knows he needs to keep quiet. He needs the grade, and arguing with the teacher is not the way to get it.

“Yes, Doctor. I apologize.”

He balances Calem on his knee and packs his notebook and his set of instructions, then he hesitates.

“And take your materials with you,” The Professor says, waving a hand dismissively. Augustine doesn’t understand why Calem’s little outburst was such a distraction if the teacher was going to hold the class at a standstill until they left. If it’s about time, they’re losing much more this way. “You can turn it in at the end of the day, if you can manage it by yourself.”

Augustine can hear the skepticism loud and clear, and it is obvious others do as well, because the few people that had looked irritated at the professor before are now clearly scowling.

But still, Augustine will have what he can take, so he puts the circuits and carcasses in their pouch and shoves that into his bag as well before lifting Calem to his chest. He bends down to pick up his bags, then marches out of the room in a way that was meant to be firm but ends up looking more rabbit-like, with quick movements and nervous glances back.

“Da!” Calem says as they move through the hall and down the stairs in search for a table Augustine can work in. “Buh!”

“Yes, bug, I know.” Augustine says. He rubs his hand up and down Calem’s back just as he spots a table, shaded and cool under a tree. “Bug, baby… Do you like one better, Calem?”

“Buh!”

Augustine can’t help smiling, “Don’t tempt me, you’ll hate me when you’re older.”

When he’s sitting down, Augustine places Calem on his knee and pulls out the pouch with his class project. Calem seems entertained enough, so Augustine busies himself with trying to assemble his project.

It should not be as hard as it is; there are parts that his notes don’t even mention, circuits that make no sense as far as he can tell, even when he finally decides to turn to his book for help. He tries to assemble a part and has to stop out of fear he’ll break the carcass.

“Is it all right if I sit?”

“Buh!” Calem yells and Augustine startles out of his thoughts.

Augustine looks up—and up, and up, and up—and his wide eyes just have to stare at the shock of orange hair at the top on the man’s head before they trail back down to his face. He stares into blue eyes until he remembers this man asked a question and he should have an answer for it.

“Ah. Yes!” He says hurriedly. “Of course! I’m sorry, yes, of course you can sit. I—You’re tall.”

“That is what I’m told, yes.”

Augustine snaps his mouth shut just as the man starts to smile, and quickly clears half the table so the other can sit down across from him. Augustine forces himself to look at his watch, and winces.

“Oh, Calem. Are you hungry, baby? It’s time to eat.”

“Buh!” Calem takes his fist out of his mouth to yell it, and his face is turning red, and Augustine feels terrible that he got so lost in his thoughts that he lost track of time.

“Yes, you are,” Augustine tells him, and bends to grab the formula and a small jar of pureed pecha berries. He tries not to feel self-conscious about the man sitting in front of him, but it’s hard: the man is so tall that even sitting down Augustine feels short compared to him, and that… that’s not something Augustine is used to.

Calem takes the formula with gusto, and tiny hands come to rest on the bottle as if he’s trying to hold it up by himself. Augustine chuckles.

“Isn’t that too early, Calem? I think we need to practice on your sitting first.”

But Calem won’t let go, and though Augustine doesn’t leave him the bottle just yet, he thinks maybe they can try later, when there is no audience.

“Is that meant to be a pokédex?” The man asks just as Augustine is placing the bottle on the table and trying to work out how to open the jar of food one-handed.

“Aha,” Augustine says. “Yes. For the final we’re meant know to build them and we need to be able to program them, but…” He motions the jar toward the scattered pieces as an explanation.

“It is a very old model. I don’t blame you.” And it is, the pieces are heavy and the final product, if the teacher is to be believed, will be bulky and cumbersome, hardly something trainers would want to carry around.

“Ye—”

“I could help you, if you want.” The man motions for the jar Augustine still can’t figure how to open, and Augustine stares but slowly passes it to him. “Lysandre Lyon, double degree in engineering and business.” As he says it, Lysandre takes Augustine’s free hand in his own.

“Ah, Augustine Sycamore. Biological Sciences. Ah, uh, accelerated.” Augustine retrieves his hand to curl it around Calem’s shoulders.

If Lysandre thinks it’s odd for Augustine to be carrying a child around while studying biological sciences that somehow involve putting together a pokédex, he has the grace not to show it. He just opens the jar and puts it on the table for Augustine to take, and Augustine does, grabbing a spoonful and leading it to Calem’s mouth.

“And how is Dr. Proulx?” Lysandre asks. He’s already leaning across the table to look at the pokédex more closely. When Augustine looks up, Lysandre looks straight at him “No one else would make first-year students try to assemble this.”

“I’m supposed to be in his class right now. But Calem here was a little restless…”

“Buh!” Calem says, smile on his face.

“Just like that.” Augustine sighs. “It’s all the same. He wasn’t answering questions anyway.”

It takes two more spoonfuls for Calem to lean away whenever the food is even close to his mouth. Then Augustine can put those things away and hand Calem a couple of rattle balls to play with. He doesn’t know if it’s the bright colors or the pokémon figurines inside the thick clear plastic, but Calem never lets them fall to the ground, so it’s Augustine’s favorite toy to bring along with them.

“So, should I explain?” Lysandre asks. He’s wearing a three-piece suit minus the coat, shirt pressed and pristinely white. Augustine wonders if maybe Lysandre is lying and is actually a teacher sent by Dr. Proulx to catch him cheating, but Augustine hasn’t slept in three days and he can’t bring himself to care.

“Please.” He hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate.

Lysandre is patient. He explains where everything goes and why, and though Augustine is not sure he will remember this next trimester, he’s just happy he understands enough so that he can put at least half of the pokédex together before he needs a more obstructive intervention.

“You’re very intelligent.” Lysandre says, suddenly. “It took me a long time to understand what you just did.”

“Oh, no, just—” Augustine wets his lips and looks away, cursing his rotten luck of blushing so easily, “your explanation, it was. Good.”

Lysandre smiles. “You’re doing it with a baby on your lap.”

Augustine is. He bounces Calem on his knee self-consciously and taps his pen on his notes to distract himself from Lysandre’s earnest eyes. He wants to say a lot of things, like: _yes, tell that to my classmates_ , or, _no, that’s not something to be proud of_ , but Lysandre is just… speaking his mind. Sincerely, this man believes that what Augustine is doing is an amazing feat of skill and mental prowess.

Augustine doesn’t know _what_ to say.

* * *

 

Lysandre’s help is exactly what Augustine needs.

Now that he has met him once, Lysandre just seems to be everywhere on campus. The labs, the cafeterias, the library, even hanging around the art building, which has nothing to do with Lysandre’s chosen career path.

What’s most amazing, however, is that, if Lysandre catches sight of him, he will wave, lift a glass in greeting, or even snap his books closed and catch up to him to chat. And Lysandre is easy to talk to. He’s smart, and serious, and deep in a way Augustine doesn’t think he can understand properly.

If he has doubts and his teachers refuse to answer his questions, all Augustine has to do is have lunch in the cafeteria closest to the business building and Lysandre will walk in sooner or later. With everything explained to him in a way he understands, Augustine can jump leaps and bounds in the material for what’s left of the trimester. He finishes his work much earlier, which in turn means he doesn’t have to stay up all night every single night. Calem is happier, which means he’s less fussy during class and sleeps easier, and the results show.

Calem rolls over for the first time, and Augustine cries and takes a video with his shitty camera phone until Diantha gets home and uses proper recording technology to immortalize the achievement. She doesn’t cry, just pats him on the head and tells Augustine he’s a good dad.

Augustine is a good dad.

She says.

Augustine is still not quite convinced of that, but he is now confident that he can do this university thing, Calem and all.

The morning the results of his first final are posted on the classroom door, Augustine has to deal with side glances and mean words on top of the freezing cold. A young woman shoves him with her shoulder, and Augustine puts his arms around Calem protectively. He can’t bring himself to glare at her. Maybe it was an accident, she had been kind to him the entire time he’d been at the École. The others turn to him and scoff, even take it as far as to glower at the back of Calem’s head.

He backs off after that, waits until there’s less people around to look at his grade. Once the multitude dwindles, he approaches.

_Oh._

_Wow._

It’s not a perfect score. But still. Augustine tops the list.

He stares at the door, disbelieving, for a few moments, and then his face breaks into a grin. He snaps a photo with his phone. With Calem strapped to his chest, Augustine runs. His throat seizes from the October air, and he has to pause to put his scarf back over his face and make sure Calem is well-covered before running again.

Lysandre stands close to the art building, journal in hand and studying what looks to be a poster from an announcement board. Augustine can’t help it, he yells:

“Lysandre!”

And Lysandre doesn’t jump. He doesn’t startle either, just looks up to look for Augustine and smiles placidly when he sees him. It takes him another second to tear himself away from the poster, in which he looks down at his journal to see if he has everything he needs, and meets Augustine halfway with long strides to Augustine’s fast, excited ones.

“I was first place in Introduction to Egg Groups!”

Lysandre’s smile broadens.

“I told you you were intelligent.” He starts to walk, and Augustine follows, “When will you know about the rest?”

“I’ll know of Biology I after lunch. Then one every day, I think? Dr. Proulx’s examination isn’t until Friday, though.”

Lysandre hums. “Let me come to see your result with you.”

Augustine agrees, mostly because he’s too relieved about his result to deny anything at the moment. He’s pretty sure that if Calem pointed at a toy, Augustine would automatically be inclined to buy it for him.

Free for now, they decide to eat somewhere outside campus. Augustine is unconvinced when Lysandre insists on taking the subway all the way Hibernal Avenue just so they can eat at Le Firmament. Lysandre is always impeccably dressed—even his coat looks light and elegant, but Augustine is most definitely not prepared for an outing like this; he’s wearing neon yellow jeans and a purple parka that Calem had thrown up on earlier that morning. He recalls the way Diantha held her head when she saw him before leaving for work and insists they could just eat somewhere near the École.

“Are you sure? Will I be allowed in like this? Will Calem be allowed in?” Augustine knows there’s some restaurants around the city that do not allow children. Augustine is sixteen. Does _he_ count as children? “Besides… besides! It’s cold, you know? The cafeterias are warm.”

“Augustine,” Lysandre says. It’s a single word but it’s enough to calm Augustine’s raising anxiety, if just a little bit. “What really is the problem?”

The problem is that he’s living with his sister who pays for everything and he’s really starting to feel guilty about it. The problem is it’s hard to walk side-by-side with Lysandre because Lysandre is a giant and unaware of how long his legs are. The problem is that no matter where he goes, he seems to attract unwanted attention with a baby strapped to his chest.

Augustine smiles ruefully. “Just… there’s a lot of things.”

To his surprise, Lysandre puts a hand on his shoulder. “Well, just don’t worry about a thing right now.”

“Not even the Biology I results?”

“I think we both know you did more than all right.”

**{…}**

Lysandre is right.

Augustine _did_ do more than just _all right_. He sees his perfect score and laughs.

His classmates see his perfect score and hiss. Every single one of them. It’s odd, because Augustine has never been subject to anything like that. While he was in primary and secondary school, his achievements were applauded by teachers, and the other children just kind of had to go along with it. They didn’t cheer for him, but he was never attacked for it either.

Now though, it’s like he painted a target on his back, and Lysandre, too, seems to notice. When the first person turns around to roll his eyes at him, Lysandre offers to carry Calem, and Augustine complies, passing the baby over so he can be on higher ground.

No one even tries to touch him. Augustine knows he doesn’t look particularly threatening, so either these people are slightly more civilized than Augustine is giving them credit for, or Lysandre, this beast of a man, is holding everyone back with his looming presence.

Blaise Duval does huff and calls him a fag when he leaves. It’s not much of a bother until the rest of the people trying to see their final grade look between him and Lysandre and grimace. And then Augustine kind of wants to go back four hours into the past and tell Lysandre not to come with him.

He feels terrible for it later, once Lysandre walks him back to the subway station and he’s standing on a car of the blue line because no one will give up their seat so he can rest even though he’s carrying Calem. He likes Lysandre, he does, and he’s pretty sure Lysandre played a huge part in him not getting beat up today. But still.

Augustine just hates conflict.

**{…}**

Augustine gets first place in all his classes the first semester.

No one says anything to him, except for Dr. Proulx, who eyes him up and down and finally, reluctantly, pats Calem’s tiny head.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Dr. Proulx says. “Have you decided on a topic you would like to research about?”

Augustine doesn’t have to think about it, “Evolution.”

Dr. Proulx stays quiet. He looks at Augustine up and down again.

“Well,” He says, finally. “Good luck, Sycamore.”

No one says anything else _to_ him. But boy, does he hear the things people are saying about him.

He doesn’t know who starts it. His bets are on either Antoine Masson or Estelle Gagne, but even he has to admit his evidence is circumstantial at best.

For his sake, Augustine leaves Calem with Diantha when he goes back to the school to select his schedule for the next trimester. It has just been two days since his results were posted, and he can feel the hatred coming from his peers as he walks down the hall.

“Did you hear?” Elise from Power Theory is telling a group of older students he doesn’t recognize “I heard he let Professor Caron fuck him for his grade.”

Augustine can’t even pretend they’re not talking about him, Elise looks straight at him and even smirks and points so the others turn to see who she’s talking about. Augustine blanches. He wants to throw up. Or cry, or something. He wants to go home and maybe not come back.

One of the others, a man with a full beard and blond hair, eyes him like he’s a piece of meat. “Well, I would give him a good grade, too.” He says. Those words actually leave his mouth, in the middle of the hallway and in Augustine’s hearing range. “Think he’s still tight enough after Caron?”

He’s still looking at him.

Augustine runs away and takes another route to the Science Administration.

The whispers follow him, so much so that he feels he might be having a bad nightmare. Augustine pays his fees and selects early morning classes rather than mid-afternoon ones. With Calem, the earlier he gets out the better, and Calem tends to wake up at the crack of dawn anyway—even if he goes right back down to sleep like a snorlax—so this way is better for everybody.

The rumors have grown in the fifteen minutes it took him to sort out the next trimester, because he now had sex with every single one of his teachers to get his grades, and Calem is apparently the result of having knocked up one of his high school teachers for the exact same reason.

“I mean, have you seen him?” Estelle Gagne is rolling her eyes. “He can’t even dress himself, there’s no way he got those grades.”

“He could be colorblind?” A petite brunette says, clearly unconvinced. Just for that, Augustine kind of wants to hug her. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Estelle groans “He’s a fag with a baby, who cares.”

The brunette makes a face, shrugs her shoulders, and backs away a step. “He helped me with my homework sometimes. He’s nice.”

Augustine doesn’t know if making the instructions clearer for her would count as _helping with her homework_ considering he can’t even remember her name, but he’ll take the support he can get.

“He and his kid just interrupt classes all the time—”

“He interrupted one class, that I know of. And the teacher was an ass about it and sent him outside.” The brunette insists. Her mouth is set in a nauseated grimace as she looks back at her global report card. When she looks up, she catches Augustine’s eye, and she quickly turns back to Estelle “plus I got second place in all the classes I share with him. Are you badmouthing me, too?”

Estelle clicks her mouth shut. “Of course not, but you’re not… like, one of _them_ , are you?”

Instead of replying, the brunette scoffs and walks off—and straight to Augustine. He has about ten seconds to panic before she takes him by the wrist and, indignant, starts to drag him off in the opposite general direction of where he wants to go.

“Um.” Is Augustine’s smart comment. “I. Uh. I was actually going _that_ wa—”

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“My—sorry, my what?”

The girl looks up at him like he’s an idiot, even though he isn’t, they established that. “Your boyfriend. Tall, well dressed? Please don’t make me call him a ginger.”

“Lysandre?” Augustine blurts out before he can stop himself. He should be more surprised than he is, but really, Lysandre is the only person he really speaks to, and the talk of him being gay had to come from somewhere. “Lysandre isn’t my boyfriend.”

He would say it with more… enthusiasm. Or, at least, less calm than that if the rumors were completely false and he didn’t think Lysandre was at the very least a little handsome. But they aren’t, and he does. The girl looks lost for words for a second before she starts pulling him in the direction he was originally headed for.

“Okay, sure. If you say so. Then let me walk you to the station.” The girl says, which would be a little stranger and not at all reassuring if Augustine hadn’t heard that one blond man talk about him like he was about to be his next victim. “I’m Axelle Rousseau, by the way.”

“I’m Augustine?” He doesn’t mean to voice it like a question, so he backtracks. “Augustine Sycamore.”

“Pft. I know” She rolls her eyes. “I think everyone’s going to know.”

* * *

 

Augustine expects nothing but rejection when he asks for a job at the pokémon center near Prism Tower. He even has a plan: when they tell him to go away, he’ll make a detour to the café in the corner of the building and buy himself a coffee and ask the owner to please warm Calem’s bottle. He’ll wait until midday there, because it’ll still be freezing but not nearly as much as it is now, and then he’ll go home and convince Apollon to play with Calem while Augustine looks for other places to search for a job.

The head nurse eyes him up and down, squints at him and stares at Calem for about two seconds before she tells him to wait right there and not to move. When she comes back, she has a hesitant smile on her face.

“I talked to the other centers because you matched a description…” She trails off “the poliwag you brought to the North Center is perfectly fine, by the way.”

Augustine blinks.

If the problem was the money, Augustine would have left, because they can’t pay him. But he’s not there for the money, he’s there to prove a point. No one will be able to say he blew his way to the top of his classes anymore, if he even manages to do it again.

“You will,” Diantha says with enough confidence that Augustine believes her “You’ll be top of the class for every class until you graduate, and we both know it.”

The thing is just that, they _don’t_ ‘both know it’.

Augustine lets the daycare’s wigglytuff take care of Calem for three weeks while he works at the center, and only checks on him once every hour or so. It’s a taxing thing; he wants to know what Calem is doing all the time, and he has to force himself to pay attention when the nurses guide him through different procedures or his thoughts will inevitably become all about different scenarios in which Calem could hurt himself while he’s not there.

Calem, on the other hand, looks like he’s having the time of his life every time Augustine checks on him. He’s one of a grand total of five children who attend the Center’s daycare, sharing the space with a tiny blond thing of a boy and three brunettes that may be triplets or not be related at all. Augustine’s tired. It’s hard to tell them apart.

In the Prism Pokémon Center, Augustine learns. There’s something about actual practice, rather than slouching over books, that makes the difference. Augustine has always been all about the theory; graphs and statistics make perfect sense to him, especially if he can make his own notes in response to the material. He’s failed at everything practical he’s ever set out to do, like pokémon training, for instance, and one look to the billboards announcing Diantha’s upcoming movie reminds him he can’t skate either.

But this is different.

Diantha scoffs a little when he tells her so. She finishes dressing Calem in a togepi onesie while Augustine rushes to finish his cereal because he’s _late_.

“When are you going to stop the self-depreciation, August?” She says. She lifts Calem and braces him against her hip, poking his cheek until Calem is reduced to bubbly laughter and uncoordinated kicking motions. “You couldn’t make sense of music sheets until you started playing the piano, remember.”

It’s not ‘remember?’. It’s a statement, she making that tone she uses when she’s holding herself back from pinching Augustine’s arm to get him to rethink things.

It’s a bit of a stretch as an analogy, Augustine thinks. Partitures don’t share the same connection with the world as analytics do.

He thinks.

Regardless, he takes the togepi-clad baby and lets his sister hug him before he leaves.

* * *

Of course someone saw him.

The first day of his second trimester, Augustine walks into Sinnohan II to jeers and taunts. Instinctively, Augustine gives a step back and shields Calem’s head. Calem doesn’t like it, and the boy writhes and cries out until he manages to slide Augustine’s hand off his skull.

“How did you convince them to even let you into the Center?” One of the girls ask. She’s got a nasal voice, and she doesn’t even have to try for a nasty tone because her face completes the job for her.

“I-I don’t—”

“Did you fuck someone there, too?” Says a redhead near the front of the classroom. “When can we expect the new baby?”

Augustine clenches his jaw shut. He wants to disappear. He should have been ready for this, but he hadn’t had any problem with anybody in Sinnohan I, and it’s terrifying to encounter this sort of thing in a place he thought was safe.

It’s only luck, Augustine thinks, for the teacher to arrive when she does. She shoos him to a seat, and Augustine hurries, trying to collect himself.

He knows he’s pale and his palms are sweaty, because he has trouble even getting his notebook out, and holding his pen is a nightmare all its own. Thankfully, maneuvering Calem requires less precise movements as he shifts the boy from the sling at Augustine’s chest to his knee. But Calem still seems to notice something’s wrong, because his tiny face in pinched, and his cheeks are getting an alarming shade of red.

The second Calem starts crying, Augustine packs up his things and runs out of the classroom, lower lip trapped between his teeth. He does his best to calm his son down, but his own chest feels tight, and it’s still hard to breathe, and his hands are still shivering, and he just ran out on his very first class of the trimester. He’s off to a bad start.

And Calem knows _something_ ’s wrong, because he won’t stop crying.

Augustine walks out into the fields so he won’t disturb the other classes. For an hour and a half, he coos and tries to bribe his boy with toys, and inside his chest the pressure gets heavier and heavier because no, he can’t do this. He worked hard but it’s him against the world and the world is stronger than he will ever be. He can’t do this if the coil around his stomach tightens so hard that he can’t breathe, he has to let this go and pursue something different, something that will keep him and his son alive but doesn’t put them in the direct line of fire that are his classmates.

“Sycamore,”

Augustine looks up, and he startles, because he should be _outside_ , not smack right in the middle of Lecture Hall D in the Biotech building.

“I-I—”

Dr. Proulx is staring right at him, brow furrowed severely and thin pepper-gray hair slicked back. He looks tiny next to Lysandre, who is of course standing next to him and looking at Augustine like he wants to scream or wrap Augustine in a hug, and Augustine doesn’t know what he feels about any of this.

Calem is still screaming. He’s been yelling so long Augustine wouldn’t be surprised if the boy was now crying because he had a headache and not the original reason. Most students are already in their seats, because of course Augustine had gone on automatic and walked straight over to his next class, of course he had.

“Take a seat, Sycamore,” Dr. Proulx says. “Lyon, class is about to start. If you have any more doubts, look for me during actual office hours.”

Lysandre takes his time leaving, enough to look over at Augustine and rebelliously walk over toward him.

“Why are you crying?” Lysandre asks.

Augustine shakes his head. He looks at the door because that’s his only escape route, and Calem is crying, still, and he should probably go home now.

Lysandre hesitates. Augustine doesn’t move, so Lysandre must take that as an indication that he wants to stay in the classroom.

“Just—look for me when the class is over, all right?” Lysandre pleads.

Dr. Proulx clears his throat, and Lysandre, the giant of a man, inclines his head in some sort of elegant apology before leaving. When Dr. Proulx stares at Augustine, Augustine’s eyes actually water even more, and Dr. Proulx looks as uncomfortable as he’s even seen him.

“I’m sorry,” Augustine stumbles on his words. His breath catches in his throat. His head is pounding now, Like Calem’s must be.  A couple people snort and laugh behind their fists. “I. My-my son’s… I should—”

Before he can point vaguely at the door, Dr. Proulx breathes deep; in and out, and extends his arms toward Augustine. The class falls silent.

“Give him here,” Dr. Proulx demands.

Augustine tenses, because that’s not the voice of somebody being friendly; the man sounds like he’s going to throw Calem out the window and Augustine right after.

“I… I don’t think—”

Dr. Proulx moves closer, and the back of Augustine’s legs are already touching the desk at his back, so there’s nowhere to run. He manages to cover Calem with his arms at the same time Dr. Proulx grabs at his forearms.

“Sycamore. Breathe.” Instinctively, Augustine obeys. “Now. I’m very aware of my reputation with the students, but I have raised four children of my own. Allow me and go to your seat.”

Augustine has to admit that it’s easier to breathe once he’s been shocked into it. Calem is taken out of his hands and expertly maneuvered to Dr. Proulx’s chest, and Augustine has no idea what sorcery or black magic Dr. Proulx uses, but Calem quiets down in about ten seconds flat while all Augustine can do is stare. The baby still looks like he’s trying to power through a marathon, but while Augustine’s knees give out and he’s forced to sit down in one of the front desks, Dr. Proulx presses Calem’s head so it rests on his shoulder and the boy is instantly asleep.

Augustine is more than impressed.

And he can use this as a learning experience, can’t he? He just has to ask how Dr. Proulx does this, and Augustine will feel less guilty about bringing Calem to class with him.

“Why have none of you started to copy what’s on the blackboard?”

When the room erupts into a flurry of motion, Augustine realizes he’s not the only one staring.


	5. Ballade en fa majeur

Data is _easy_. Its application, particularly when it comes to pokémon, is absolutely fascinating. Augustine spends every single free minute he has reading over theories, reinforcing his Kantonese, and, when it’s time to study for his Sinnohan final, his thoughts wander around a pokémon’s ability to fight and the language the pokémon’s trainer uses.

Defending himself is hard, though. It always has been. Diantha is the most outspoken one of the two, and Augustine has always been the… not _meek_ one, Augustine Sycamore has never been meek, nor shy nor any other word that involves staying quiet out of fear and shame. He’s reluctant. He’s a pacifist.

When Augustine finally admits what most of his peers have been saying about him around campus, Diantha is ready to go have words with them. She uses that word, _words_ , but Augustine knows that she’d bite and scratch and gouge out eyeballs if she heard the _threats_ some people throw his way. She’s about to stalk over with him to the École, until Augustine convinces it’s not worth it.

“How could you _say_ that, Augustine?!”

“You can’t lose your contract to that new movie just because you want to defend my honor,” Augustine placates. He puts on a calm, sweet smile, the one that would stop her from going on a rampage when they were children.

It still works. She deflates, burying herself on the couch and draping Calem over her torso. He’s bigger, now, almost 9 months old. He babbles something Augustine can’t hope to make out into Diantha’s collarbone, and she giggles and moves him a bit so his breath will not tickle her.

“About Calem,” Diantha says carefully, sitting back up and rubbing Calem’s back when the boy whines. “Production is looking for a baby for the new movie. You know I’m basically playing you, right?”

Augustine closes his eyes instead of rolling them, because yes, he knows. Diantha will be a young single mother in her new film. Augustine is still extremely nervous about the whole thing.

“Yes…?”

“Well. They’ve brought over a few pairs of twins, but no one is convinced any of them are the right fit. I was wondering if maybe you’d let Calem play the part of my son.”

Augustine’s mind goes blank. He must have heard wrong. He pauses right at the door, hand over the knob and bag halfway strung across his chest. The sun is starting to set, which means he has to get going or he’ll be late for his workshop.

“You want Calem to play your son?”

“Yes, well—” There’s a bit of a pause as Diantha visibly scrambles for a way to explain herself. “He looks enough like me. And we already know each other. I won’t have to spend extra time connecting with him like with any of the others.”

“I… don’t know, Di.”

“Look. This means that you can get extra sleep or put in some extra study hours when filming starts in three weeks. And we both know you need both for your finals. And then you’ll be able to get through most of your next trimester without having to worry about changing Cal’s diaper in the middle of class.”

Augustine bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’ll think about it. Can I tell you after the workshop? We can go get dinner and everything.”

“You mean takeout.”

“I mean takeout.”

Diantha smiles. “Yes. That’s fine. I’d take Calem with me tomorrow morning if you agree.”

{…}

When the speaker leaves the room, Augustine is immediately crowded by a bunch of his classmates. Augustine frowns as he counts six of them, all broader than him.

When the taunts begin, he looks down and hurries to shove his notes into his bag. He wants to get out of here, go back home and have dinner with his sister. He wants to put Calem to bed and reread his notes and explain them to Apollon so they’ll stick in his own head. He doesn’t want to be here being leered at and find himself to be the butt of the jokes.

Augustine’s plan is to keep his head down and leave and start preparing a study guide for the rapid-approaching finals.

And then Milo Morin brings Calem into it.

It’s not even that he brings the _concept_ of Calem, of a baby, to taunt him. No, Milo Morin steps up to Augustine until their noses are almost touching and threatens to make Calem _disappear_. He says it like it’s a joke, like it’ll make his life easier and bring Augustine some peace to boot.

Augustine is reluctant, he’s a pacifist.

He tries to reign himself in, he does, because Milo Morin is about 150 kilograms of muscle and brute force, but Augustine is 75 kilograms of unbridled rage, and he attacks before he can weigh the consequences of his actions.

All he can see is red. Augustine uses his fingernails and his elbows and his knees and everything boney in his body because he’s not very athletic but he knows the parts of his body that would hurt others the most, and he uses them until Milo Morin gets a punch through Augustine’s wild flourish of attacks and for a second Augustine only feels pain, and then he’s back at attacking again.

Three teachers are required to separate them, and when Augustine explains, he has tears running down his face and judging by the woman telling him to breathe, he sounds terrified, too.

He doesn’t know what happened to Morin. The teachers all agree Augustine acted in some sort of self-defense and tell him to go home, and Augustine takes ten minutes in the nearest bathroom to get himself back together before walking to the train.

Diantha looks torn between helping him and asking him what happened when he gets home. She holds a bag of frozen vegetables to his cheekbone, which took the worst of the damage, and puts her head on her hand like she’s waiting for him to explain.

“You can take Calem with you tomorrow,” Augustine says in lieu of an explanation. It’s for the best. Calem won’t be in danger of his classmates while this whole thing blows over, and, like he predicted, Diantha is too happy to keep pestering him about the purple thing that is his face.

She doesn’t forget it, obviously, Augustine knows his twin sister too well to think she will, but she will stay quiet so he doesn’t think about changing his mind.

Before she retires to bed, Diantha turns to Augustine and points at him with her finger. “Remember that the Championship is two days after your last final.”

And with that, she leaves him alone to put Calem to bed by himself.

* * *

For the next three weeks, Augustine can _finally_ look at people in the eye when they turn to stare.

He finds, for one, that half the stares are followed by smiles and waves from some of his classmates and strangers, and some people that could either be teachers or older students even approach to lean down so they are eye-level to Calem and poke Calem’s baby-chubby cheeks and coo at him.

Naturally, the other half of the stares are followed by glares, but this time Augustine has enough confidence to glare right back, and most of the time those people will be the ones to look away first. And, as if on cue, Calem will laugh. Augustine likes to pretend the laugh is congratulating him for standing up for himself after so long.

There’s another change in those three weeks, and its name is Lysandre Lyon. Instead of waiting for Augustine to find him, Lysandre is starting to look like a permanent fixture outside of whichever lecture hall Augustine happens to be in, and also a very tall, very orange baby carriage.

Augustine isn’t stupid. He’s not the best at reading people, but Lysandre, it seems, is even worse at hiding secrets in general, so Augustine can tell that there’s something Lysandre wants to say but won’t. Augustine notices the way Lysandre will bite his lips, open his mouth, and then take a ridiculous spoonful of whatever he’s eating to shut himself up.

So when Lysandre clears his throat and interrupts Calem’s babbling tirade over a late lunch, Augustine is intrigued. He looks up from his Pokémon Physiology textbook, looks questioningly at Lysandre, and tries hard not to bite the top end of his pen.

“I was wondering if you’d like to visit the museum this weekend.”

“Ah,” Augustine almost sighs in relief. From the way Lysandre had been acting, he’d been afraid he had bad news to share. “I would lo—wait, no. I can’t this weekend.”

“I see,” Lysandre says. He frowns a bit, and his shoulders look like they deflate. “I apologize for assu—”

“No!” Augustine yells. Calem startles, and the baby’s face twists and reddens at the outburst. Augustine grabs him from his high chair and cradles him before he can start crying. “It’s—It’s not you! Just… My sister—did you know I have a sister? We’re twins—my sister is fighting the Champion this weekend, so.”

Lysandre, for once, looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He looks from Augustine to Calem, who has just caught hold of a napkin and shoved it into his mouth, and then back to Augustine, who’s pulling the napkin out of Calem’s mouth.

Augustine knows he and his furret-onesie-clad baby don’t exactly look like they’re related to a Pokémon Champion prospect. They especially don’t look like they’re related to—

“Your _twin sister_ is Diantha Carnet?” Lysandre is sure he’s never sounded more surprised in his life, and he can only hope his astonishment is not read as incredulity.

“Er, yes.”

Lysandre Lyon, it turns out, is the kind of person who cries over figure skating. Augustine knows this because Lysandre spends the next ten minutes giving a detailed and heartfelt review of _Ice Princess_ , during which he tears up to the point of needing to ask Augustine for the napkin he had pulled out of Calem’s mouth.

That night, Augustine asks Diantha if it would be possible to invite an extra person to watch the match. Diantha doesn’t even think about it before shrugging and nodding. She’s sitting in the living room, her smaller pokémon and herself hunched in front of the television. If Augustine leans over, he can catch a glimpse of several matches recently fought by the Champion.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

Diantha sighs, pauses the recording, and turns to him. “Of course I don’t mind, August. The seats aren’t an issue.”

And then she goes right back to staring at the screen.

When Augustine informs Lysandre that he’s cordially invited to Diantha’s match, Lysandre tears up all over again.

* * *

Diantha leaves on Thursday.

Augustine has his hardest final on Friday, and then, at an unholy hour on Saturday, he and Lysandre meet at Lumiose Station. Calem is blissfully asleep in his stroller, a Pikachu plush dressed like a rockstar settled right next to him.

Augustine studies their tickets and looks around the flap displays to find the ride to Ambrette Town at 4:30AM. Next to him, Lysandre is muttering under his breath and glaring at his phone, which he keeps tapping furiously at every five seconds.

When Augustine finds the correct gate in the list, he promptly readjusts his bags and starts pushing Calem’s stroller through the station, thanking every deity he can think of that everybody seems to be a little too sleepy to actually make noise as they walk around. Lysandre follows him without needing a prompt, still not looking up from the screen.

“So,” Augustine yawns, “are you expecting a text?”

“A grade,” Lysandre responds. The train isn’t exactly packed, so he sits down heavily on one of the sets of sofas facing each other. “the teacher was supposed to post the Entrepreneurship results yesterday, but she hasn’t.”

Augustine uses the seconds it takes his brain to absorb information at this hour to pull a book out of his bag and then hoist said bag into the luggage rack above his head.

“I don’t think she’ll post it before dawn, Lysandre.” Augustine says.

He carefully unstraps Calem and gently places him in the seat next to him. After a moment of deliberation, he releases Apollon as well. When the riolu happily climbs up his legs to lie next to Calem, Lysandre’s attention is finally pulled away from his phone.

“Is he sleeping through the night now?” Lysandre wonders. There’s something intense in his face as he stares at Calem and Apollon cuddled together. His hand tightens around his phone.

“Yes?” Augustine realizes he said it as a question and promptly corrects: “Yes. You knew that. Are you okay?”

It looks like it pains him, but Lysandre slowly peels his eyes away from Calem. He thumbs the screen of his phone, as if apologizing for squeezing it so tight, and looks at the time before he stashes the phone in his bag, standing up and leaving the bag on the rack above them for good measure.

“I’m fine,” Lysandre replies belatedly, which means that something is wrong. Augustine just can’t tell what. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Lysandre?”

Lysandre shakes his head. He puts his hand on top of Calem’s head and caresses Calem’s dark hair before he retrieves his hand, crossing his arms over his chest, and looking at the dark, shimmery scenery behind the window.

* * *

Augustine has never seen Lysandre’s pokémon.

He’d actually sort of assumed Lysandre did not actually own any pokémon at all. But the second Augustine is finished bundling Calem up to face the cold in Ambrette Town and they’re both out of the train, Lysandre pulls two pokéballs from the pocket of his jacket and lets out a litleo and a murkrow.

Calem goes insane trying to touch them, which reinforces Augustine’s decision to not go to the Fossil Lab and to keep away from the glass at the aquarium.

“Baby, calm down,” Augustine grunts as he struggles to keep Calem nestled in his arms. On his shoulder, Apollon rubs his head to Calem’s tiny cheek. Calem doesn’t pay attention besides batting his arm to get away. Apollon whines and buries his head on Augustine’s neck, disheartened. “Oh, you know he loves you, he’s just never seen these two before.”

Despite the odd mood that had taken over Lysandre on the train, the man chuckles. He leans down to pick up the litleo, and the murkrow follows, moving to perch on Lysandre’s forearm. Lysandre brings the Pokémon to Calem’s eye-level, though far away enough that the baby can’t reach them.

“These are Xerxès and Corneille,” Lysandre says, shifting the litleo first and letting the murkrow lift a wing in greeting.

When Calem cries out in excitement and reaches to grab at the litleo, the poor thing actually flinches. Augustine is quick to pull his son further away, even if Calem’s tiny arms are too short to touch anything anyway.

“Er,” Augustine starts.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandre interrupts, stroking the litleo’s small back to calm him, “I’m afraid Xerxès has a bit of a history,”

“It’s fine!” Augustine reassures, “Calem actually hasn’t met one of my sister’s Pokémon for the same reason, you know,”

But Lysandre still looks like he’s beating himself up about it; he clutches his pokémon tightly against his chest and looks torn between keeping Xerxès reassured that he’s safe and giving in to Calem’s insistent grabby hands.

In the end, Lysandre murmurs something to the litleo and, keeping the Pokémon clutched tightly in his arms, approaches. He steps over until he’s next to Augustine and maneuvers so that litleo’s head is facing away from them—probably, Augustine thinks, to keep Calem from burning his hands—and Calem shrieks with joy.

“Gentle,” Augustine manages to take hold of Calem’s hand and directs him in how to pet the litleo.

The little boy gasps with an air of reverence as he feels the warm fur under his fingertips, and after two long, light strokes, Calem looks back at Augustine, mouth open as he tries to convey his sudden adoration for this tiny pokémon he’d never even met before. Augustine imitates him, then guides Calem’s hand for one final stroke along Xerxès’ back before stepping back to give the litleo some space.

Xerxès shudders, looking over at Calem from the safety of Lysandre’s arms. He doesn’t look quite so frightened anymore, instead leaning over to look at Calem in unadulterated curiosity.

“He’s something special, isn’t he, Xerxès?” Asks Lysandre. On his shoulder, Corneille has chosen to focus on more important things, such as the bright lights above them. Litleo, though, makes a chirping sound to agree with his trainer. “Truly, the world doesn’t deserve him,” Lysandre shifts his eyes to look at Augustine, “Or you.”

Augustine would like to say he doesn’t blush, and that he doesn’t stammer out a response that is only barely words, but then there’s a flash, and when he turns, startled, there his mother is, holding a camera with evidence in her hands.

“ _Mom_!” Augustine cries, much to Calem’s delight, who gurgles in response. Apollon pushes off Augustine’s shoulder to run to the woman while Lysandre returns his pokémon to their pokéballs.

“Augie, you two look so cute together!” She squeals, looking down to the camera to look at the picture and mostly ignoring Augustine’s indignant complains. She uses her free hand to tickle Apollon’s chin, then looks up at Lysandre once she’s satisfied with knowing every detail of the photograph, and beams up at him. “You’re so tall! I wonder what you’d look like with a beard?”

To Lysandre’s credit, he doesn’t even bat an eye; he just smiles pleasantly while Augustine’s mom studies him. It’s only once she’s satisfied with whatever she was looking for that she extends her hand, and Lysandre promptly grabs it.

“Good morning. I’m Zoé Sycamore,” The woman says.

“Pleasure to meet you, Madam. My name is Lysandre Lyon.”

“Oh, I’m not married, and you may call me Zoé,” She corrects, letting Lysandre’s hand go and reaching instead for Calem, who frowns at her, “Oh, but you’re so big now, baby! We need to see each other more often. You don’t recognize me, do you?”

She grabs Calem’s foot lightly and gives it a tiny shake, only for the boy to kick off her hold. Zoé laughs airily and proceeds to look up at her son. He’s taller now, Augustine knows this, and she doesn’t hesitate to tell him so. She reaches over and holds his face, tenderly brushing her thumb to his cheekbone until Calem decides enough is enough and cries out, pushing her hand away.

“Oh, don’t be jealous, Calem!” Zoé says, “This is _my_ baby, you know?”

Calem doesn’t know and doesn’t care, he just looks up at her with a pout and Zoé can’t help but laugh at how he looks, wrapped in a jacket so thick he can barely move his arms. Apollon nuzzles Zoé’s face, shifting until she gets the hint and opens her jacket enough for him to wiggle inside.

“We could have taken a later train,” Augustine complains once Lysandre has taken it upon himself to carry both their bags while Zoé unfolds the stroller so Augustine can set Calem in it. He tucks the rockstar pikachu safely next to his son for good measure. “The match starts at five, and it’s barely eight.”

“We could have breakfast,” Lysandre suggests. “Then go to the aquarium?”

“I thought you wanted to see the Fossil Lab.”

Lysandre raises his shoulders, and not for the first time Augustine wonders how someone can make shrugging look elegant, “There’s plenty of time after the aquarium for that. You’ve looked like you really need a nap lately. I can go to the lab while you get one.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Zoé interrupts. “But we should leave your bags first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I can't do endings?
> 
> So, for Augustine's mom's dialogue, it's my understanding that in French, only married women are "madam" which is why she tells Lysandre that she is not, in fact, married, and therefore he doesn't need to call her that. If you're French and I'm wrong, say so. Please.
> 
> Btw, if you're wondering how old Lysandre is, he's around two years older than Augustine. So that makes him only around 19 in this chapter.
> 
> Other than that, sorry for the long wait. I'm having a lot of trouble with chapter 9, but I figure that's the reason I left a buffer between what I'm currently writing and what you're reading, so I should make use of it.


	6. Étude en mi majeur

The aquarium is an experience.

The second they get there, Lysandre scrolls through his phone, finally smiles, and puts it in his pocket for good.

“I got my grade,” He says when Augustine asks. And since he looks so pleased with himself, Augustine doesn’t have to ask to know it’s a good one. Augustine is glad, more so than he thought he would be, and Calem feels the change in mood instantly, babbling and gurgling and moving his arms clumsily around him.

Zoé laughs into her hand when Calem punches Augustine in the face by accident and he’s forced to put him back in the stroller.

“It’s for the best, Augie,” She says. She stands to the side while Lysandre helps Augustine carry the stroller down the stairs to start their tour, “It’s harder for him to touch the glass this way.”

Augustine’s mother speaks from experience; Augustine finds this out when they start walking down a tunnel completely surrounded by a giant enclosure and Calem shrieks like he never has before, tries to reach the bright-pink frillish with so much force that the stroller topples over, and Augustine has to bodily throw himself at it to get it upright before Calem hits his head on the floor.

“I’ll take over for you, sweetie.” Zoé says exactly half a second before she grabs hold of the handles and refuses to let go.

They skip the attraction where children can touch a real, live mantyke, but by the time they finish their trip to the gift store, Calem is holding a plush one and already biting on its flipper. Next to him, a lumineon and a chinchou take up the rest of the space of Calem’s seat. His red beanie has been replaced by one in shape of a shellder that looks like it’s biting his head. Zoé takes maybe fifty pictures of this and promises to send them over to him later.

Augustine mostly feels drained. He’s never seen Calem quite so happy, and it’s great to imagine the aquarium through his eyes, but Augustine can always do with a less couple drum-shattering squeals.

“buh achbma,” Yawns Calem.

Augustine smiles “Really, Calem? I didn’t know that!”

The boy perks up slightly before he yawns again, blinking heavily. His head suddenly seems to weight too much for him to hold up on his own, so Augustine chuckles, cradles the back of his head, and pulls the boy out of the stroller and into his arms, mantyke plush toy pressed uncomfortably between them.

“Augustine, I’m going to the Fossil Lab now,” Lysandre says as he adjusts his scarf over his mouth and nose. “Unless you need help with anything else?”

Augustine pauses long enough to look back at his mom, who has already loaded their bags from the gift shop onto stroller and is pushing it down the ramp in direction of the hotel.

“I think we’re fine. See you at the stadium?” Augustine adjusts Calem higher up his chest and tries not to look to uncomfortable when one of the mantyke’s fins bunches up and presses oddly against his breastbone.

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Lysandre promises.

His mom is laughing to herself by the time Augustine reaches her and sets Calem’s diaper bag on the underside compartment of the stroller.

“Oh, your boyfriend is so nice, Augie!”

And maybe Augustine has heard _that_ enough that he doesn’t blush to the tips of his ears, but he still feels pressed to hide his face on Calem’s shellder-covered head.

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend, mom.”

“Well, he should be, hon—”

“Please stop.”

His mom only laughs louder.

{…}

The diaper bag feels heavy on his shoulder.

His mom must notice, because she takes it from him without a word and helps him adjust Calem so his back fits more snuggly against Augustine’s chest. When he doesn’t react, she frowns up at him, runs her hands through Calem’s sides and then moves them so they rest on his arms so she can put pressure on his wrists.

Calem laughs and bounces on the sling strapped to Augustine’s torso, tugging him forcefully back to the present.

“Baby?” His mom is asking. Augstine’s eyes snap to her. “What’s wrong?”

Everything is loud, suddenly. Augustine blinks, takes a moment to regroup; the stadium is right in front of him, he can hear the swoosh and roar from the ocean waves as they crack against rocks at the bottom of the cliff, even over the bustle of the crowd around him and the street sellers yelling at the top of their lungs for people to stop long enough to buy something from them.

“Augustine?”

Augustine’s hands grab onto Calem, who is still bouncing on the sling and making it hard for Augustine to balance.

“It’s nothing,” Augustine says, but he’s a bad liar, and his eyes stray away to where Estelle Gagne and Antoine Masson had been standing just moments before. They’re nowhere to be found now, but that fact doesn’t make it easier. His arms coil around Calem’s tiny body before Augustine has the nerve to look back at his mom, wobbly reassuring smile in place, “Let’s just… can we go now?”

His mom is looking worriedly in the general direction Gagne and Masson had been, hand gripping Augustine’s arm in doubtful reassurance and mouth quirked down in worry. She licks her lips, looking up at him before she moves to rub his back in a way so familiar and soothing that it makes him a little homesick.

“Of course,” She tries to smile, all encouragement and comfort, “Come on. I know there’s an opening battle and we’ll miss it!”

She pushes him a little and Augustine finds it a little surprising how easy he goes with it. He can’t help the way he shifts nervously to make sure no one else is looking at them, and he only looks back at the front when his mom stops pushing him.

“Tickets?” Asks the lady in front of him.

“Oh, uhm,” says Augustine. He really should stop trying to reply when he doesn’t know the answer.

“My daughter said we were on a list!” his mom pipes up. Augustine says nothing because this is the first he’s heard of this. He should have probably thought of it before, though. “Calem, Augustine, and Zoé Sycamore?”

“Oh, of course! Hold on,” The girl takes a small elegant notebook from the podium next to her and studies the contents for a minute. “Here you are! Could I see some ID?”

Calem bounces excitedly, making grabby hands at the bright red vest of the girl’s uniform and making Augustine regret using the sling in the first place. The girl giggles, nudging Calem’s nose with her thumb delicately.

“Aren’t you quite the ladies’ man?” She says. Augustine tries not to cringe. His son is not even nine months old, he gets excited when Diantha waves a rag in front of his face and he’s wearing a shellder on his head. She must sense how uncomfortable Augustine is, because she looks right away from the baby to quickly examine his mom’s ID. “Thank you.”

Augustine finally manages to pull out his student ID from his wallet. The girl only looks at it for a second before she looks up, eyebrow raised, and looks back down.

“Uhm,” Augustine shifts and Calem taps his hand and lets out a sound of surprised excitement.

“Oh! Sorry,” The girl says. “You’re fine. You’re just a little young to be in the École, you kn0w? Did you write a thesis to get in?”

“I presented part of an investigation I’d been doing. About, uh,” Augustine looks down, then right back up lest the girl thinks he’s lying “about the difference between friendship and affection and how it alters evolution.”

“I see!” The girl says, all smiles, though it’s clear she has no idea what he’s talking about. Instead, she looks down at his chest, where Calem is attempting to achieve flight by flailing his arms and legs fast enough, “You have a very smart brother, aren’t you lucky?”

Augustine freezes.

“Brother?” He says, or thinks he says. The girl doesn’t react, so Augustine must have imagined speaking up. He swallows thickly.

“—ie? Augustine.” His mom touches his arm. Once again, concern is clear on her face even as she tries to smile. “Come on, Di said we had special seats!”

The usher is nice and quiet as he guides them halfway across the stadium until they’re in front of an elevator. It’s shiny and modern and clearly newly-built, just like the stadium itself. Augustine would usually comment on all of this, but for now, he just stays quiet at the usher presses the button and lets them go in first before getting in himself and selecting whichever floor they’re going to.

“Do _not_ let it get to you, Augustine.” His mother whispers harshly. “Diantha told me you’ve been doing great. It was just a mistake and she didn’t mean anything by it.”

And the thing is, it’s hard to ignore his mother when she’s berating him, so he swallows and nods. “Right—right.”

“I’m serious, honey.” She insists, using her mom-voice, “I don’t want you overthinking it.”

“I know. I won’t, I promise.”

She smiles, “That’s my boy.”

The usher guides them to their places, and both Augustine and his mom stop dead in their tracks when they see where he’s leading them. Because Diantha decided to sit them in one of those boxes meant for important people. It’s elegant; the walls dark dray and shiny with black trims, the seats spacious and comfortable-looking. The glass pane at the front shows a perfect view from the side of the stadium. Augustine has never seen something so nice in his life.

From the face she’s making, neither has his mom.

“There is a restaurant right down the hall in case you get hungry,” The usher assures them, he extends his hand to motion them in, but when they don’t move, he doesn’t comment on it. “I must help the rest of the guests. Please, feel right at home.”

And then he turns and leaves.

“Oh, _Di_ ,” Augustine’s mom mutters under her breath, eyes misty.

They’re announcing the challengers of the opening battle when Lysandre unfolds himself from a chair, looking perfectly at ease with the entire thing. Though it’s warmer in the box, Lysandre hasn’t shed his double-breasted coat, still hiding his hands inside the pockets.

“Let me help,” Lysandre says, giving two great strides toward them and extending his hand to take the diaper bag.

“Oh, thank you!” Augustine’s mom hands it over, “I put a blanket in there before we came over. Calem can play in it.”

Lysandre moves out of her way when she goes to look out the window, index finger already in her mouth from nervous anticipation. She mutters something under her breath that Augustine doesn’t quite pick up on, but when he asks, she just waves a hand in the air dismissively.

“Augustine, do you need help with that?” Lysandre points at the sling strapped to Augustine’s chest with an open hand.

Augustine hesitates, “I think we should settle everything else first.”

So they do. Lysandre pulls out the baby’s favorite blanket and extends it over the floor right in front of the seats, where everyone can keep an eye on Calem even through the battle. Augustine unpacks a couple of toys and sighs in relief when he thinks about his mom insisting he feed Calem before making their way to the stadium. He looks over to thank her, but her eyes are already plastered on the opening battle.

Augustine can feel her anxiety quickly creeping inside him. His fingers twitch. He closes his fists, then opens them. His tongue is licking his lips in what has recently become a nervous habit before he can control it.

A hand tugs at Calem’s sling, and Augustine’s arms move to cover his son before he can reason that there’s nothing to fear here: not in these seats, not with Lysandre existing in the same room as them.

“I’m sorry,” Lysandre says, hand snapping away from Augustine.

“No! I’m—” Augustine sighs, lifting a hand away from Calem’s head and running his fingers through his own hair, “ _I’m_ sorry. I saw… a couple of classmates outside, so I guess…” He lowers his voice for the last part, but he has a feeling his mother wouldn’t have heard him anyway.

The frown that suddenly darkens Lysandre’s face is a scary thing. Calem sniffles, and Augustine rushes to shush him.

“Are they still bothering you?” Lysandre seems to have caught on, because he, too, lowers his voice so only Augustine can hear him.

“A little,” Augustine shifts uncomfortably under the weight of Lysandre’s stare. “But, it’s fine, Lysandre, I swear. I can defend myself. Sort of.”

“I can file a report against them,” Insists Lysandre. Lysandre, who just turned nineteen and is already much more mature than Augustine will ever be, he’s sure. “And I’m sure I can—”

“I promise I’m okay.”

Lysandre doesn’t even try to wipe the frown off his face, but he doesn’t argue either. Instead he extends his hand, slowly, deliberately, and tugs gently at the sling Augustine is still wearing, and Augustine, prepared this time, holds Calem to him and tugs at the other strap to finally free Calem from his prison.

Calem rolls over from his spot on the blanket and shakily crawls over to his emolga-themed stacking rings, looking content enough. Augustine gives him his pacifier for good measure and then, finally, he takes his seat.

The battle between Mia Leroy and Enzo Travers, as the jumbotron reads, has been grossly one-sided the entire time; five of Enzo’s pokémon are already blacked-out on the screen, while Mia—tiny and dark-skinned and in pigtails—is still on her first pokémon, a pachirisu that jumps all over the battlefield in apparent joy, cheeks charged and fangs on display.

“Travers had been boasting through the interview beforehand,” Lysandre comments nonchalantly, eyes drifting from the field to Calem and back again, focusing on Mia, “she just smiled at the cameras.”

Augustine smiles, “little but fierce?”

The collective groan from the crowd when Enzo throws out a braviary is deafening. Next to Augustine, Lysandre gives a small huff of disappointment when the pachirisu leaps to nuzzle her opponent and then quickly finishes the battle with a well-placed thunderbolt.

The commentator is quick to praise Mia and pachirisu’s team for their hard work. He doesn’t mention Enzo at all as Mia is guided to the center of the battlefield and gifted a commemorative plaque certifying her victory in the Opening Ceremony Exhibition Match.

Then, the battlefield is cleared. Everything goes faster than Augustine can keep track of; he doesn’t even stand for the Kalos anthem before both his mom and Lysandre pull him up by his arms, and then he only barely remembers to pull Apollon out before the Champion’s Theme music blasts out of the stadium speakers and Diantha walks out of her tunnel.

She’s dressed like a trainer, like a challenger: all in white and very pale blue. Augustine remembers her fussing over that, over pink and blue. He remembers not understanding why it was such a big deal either way and her cutting response about public image and her future career. He remembers her taking one brief look at Calem, asleep in Augustine’s arms, before pushing everything pink aside.

She stands tall and defiant in her spot, facing the Champion’s Tunnel head-on. If Augustine knew Diantha any less than he does, he wouldn’t notice the uneasy set of her shoulders or the way she clenches her fists as she does when she wants to keep her fingers from twitching.

But he does know her, and he does notice.

Augustine spreads his legs a little so his feet are better braced against the floor and leans forward, elbows on his knees to keep them from quivering.

The Champion’s Theme is still playing to receive Champion Drasna as she steps out from her tunnel. And she? She doesn’t look tense or challenging or frightening. She’s dressed in a simple shirt and skirt, and an easy smile tugs at her lips.

“Goodness me, please be welcome!” Drasna’s voice chimes through the speakers, “We can start whenever you’re ready, dear!”

The jumbotron can’t hide the calming breath Diantha takes to steady herself. On Augustine’s shoulders, Apollon takes a hold of his trainer’s hair and holds tight.

When Diantha grabs her first pokéball, Drasna says something else, Augustine can see it on the giant screen, but her microphone seems to have been turned off, so he doesn’t catch what it is before Diantha nods and throws out Gémeaux, her aurorus, and Drasna corresponds with a dragalge.

“ _Here they are, ladies and gentlemen! Prepare yourselves for the battle of the year!”_

Augustine takes a deep breath, as if he could breathe for his sister, and then the battle starts.

…

..

.

Diantha loses.

The crowd applauds her.

The commentator praises her battle style.

Apollon whines, rushes to paw at the glass when Artémis struggles to get to her feet.

Diantha walks over to her, slow, her head down. She kneels.

Artémis leans into her touch, lets her hide her face in the fur of her neck.

Augustine feels like he just had the wind knocked out of him.

Diantha spent hours looking at battle videos, trying to decipher Drasna’s strategy. She filled two notebooks trying to come up with a proper counter attack for everything she could think could go wrong. She recreated imaginary battles in which each of her pokémon fought against each of the Champion’s.

Diantha was not unprepared.

This?

This was raw, unadulterated difference in strength.

* * *

Diantha has never met Lysandre.

Augustine remembers this only when he and his mom rush to meet her in the lobby and Lysandre falls behind. When Augustine looks, Lysandre is there, holding Calem’s diaper bag and fixing his coat, either preparing for the cold outside or just looking for something to do while Diantha is smothered in hugs and well-meaning promises of everything going better next time.

Diantha’s eyes are red-rimmed, but she looks like someone who has decided their suffering has ended; she smiles at them, waves off their concerns and pokes Calem’s cheek, who gurgles happily at the attention. Apollon leaps off Augustine’s shoulder and over to Diantha’s, rubbing his cheek against hers.

“Oh, it’s all right, Apollon. I’ll try again.” She scratches the riolu’s chin, clucking her tongue, “Artémis is still getting better, so they told me to only let her out in the hotel. Sorry,”

Apollon just sort of hangs onto Diantha, looking slightly concerned but otherwise perfectly fine and happy. Diantha taps his nose, turns her eyes back to her family, and stops half way, blinking in surprise.

“That guy,” she whispers finally looking away to avoid being caught staring, “is just. Very tall.”

“I said the same thing,” Mom confesses.

“That’s Lysandre,” Augustine says. He doesn’t admit he made a fool of himself saying the exact same thing when he first met him, “the friend I asked about?”

“Oh! That does explain the diaper bag,” Diantha smiles, “Why is he standing all the way back there?”

“He—uhm. I was going to say he’s shy, but he really isn’t. I don’t know what he’s doing,” Augustine turns and waves Lysandre over.

The closer he gets, the more the disbelief grows in Diantha’s eyes. By the time Lysandre is standing in front of her, Augustine knows she really wants to comment on his height and she’s just hanging on by a thin thread. She’s not nearly as awkward as Augustine, though, and she’s a trained actress, too, so she manages to hide it and smile.

“Lysandre, right?” She extends her hand, and Lysandre takes it firmly “I hope you enjoyed the battle,”

“I most certainly did. Thank you for letting me watch,”

From his position, Augustine cannot see Lysandre’s expression, but he’s a little afraid that the tears are going to come back. The way even Diantha can’t pretend she’s holding back a grin doesn’t make se situation any clearer.

“Thank you for keeping my brother out of trouble,” Diantha replies. She gets closer, only lightly getting on the tips of her toes, though that doesn’t put her anywhere near eye-to-eye level with Lysandre, and lowers her voice, “he really needs that.”

“I am right here.” Augustine says, and is promptly ignored.

“It’s my pleasure,” Replies Lysandre instead. He’s serious now, the mood from the train returning full-force as he tears his eyes away from Diantha to look at Augustine, “I hope it always is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished chapter 9! Which means that I can post a new chapter and not feel guilty.
> 
> ...Yeah, the bullies were back for a second there, but they didn't do anything, I suppose. It's just their existence is annoying.
> 
> And yes, Diantha lost! While I was in the early stages of planning for the first couple chapters, I did think she would win, but she's still too young, I feel and not everything can go well the first time you try, so.
> 
> Also, yes, I think that the VS. Elite Four and VS. Champion themes are actually themes that are used for League matches, sort of like the FIFA Anthem, so when they hear them children usually recognize them immediately and go look at what's happening. You know, kinda like marketing. Idk if I'll get into it in the story, but marketing is also part of the reason Gym Leaders use mono-typed teams. 
> 
> I realize Lysandre's and Diantha's meeting wasn't super fun or even interesting? But at least them met, tbh. I'm still trying to balance things out, so... That being said, I hope you liked this chapter! Sorry for the wait!
> 
> BTW! For the future, choose Lucas or Dawn? The one you choose would not be the protagonist in DPPt games.

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter conquered! Sorta.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, don't forget to read Ryttu3k's stuff! https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryttu3k
> 
> Also, you can find me on Tumblr: http://tenebraelux.tumblr.com/  
> And follow me on Twitter! my handle is @DarkLuxAO3


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